On the Long Way Down
by Mouserocks-nerd
Summary: Dashing, duplicitous, dangerous- billionaire Clark Kent may have more than one skeleton in his closet and several women on his heels, but he's always been single-minded in his goal: to destroy Lex Luthor. All that changes when he meets Luthor's girl. Torn between revenge and stealing Lois Lane's heart, Clark must decide what means more to him before it all falls apart. Anti-verse.
1. Not How the Story Goes

**A/N:** Been a while! Craziness afoot over in RL, but I have still been writing. Yes, I will be jumping back into some of my unfinished stories. Yes, that's a long list. I've updated which stories I'll be continuing when I have the time in my profile (good news for fans of "Superman's Daughter" and "Live Fast Die Young"). Better news? This story, the one I'm posting right here right now, is already complete. Written and saved, start to finish. Can't believe it? You don't have to! Act 1 is already posted at the Lois and Clark message boards, and on a posting schedule of Mondays/Wednesdays. But, seeing as I'm playing catch up over here, I'll be kinda posting these in random spurts. This story takes place outside of canon, in a very alternate universe. Suspend your disbelief, if you would, but it's a story I thought deserved fleshing out, and something I thought would be fun to place in terms of the Lois and Clark universe. Five Acts. Sixty-five chapters. Strong T rating. Major thanks go out to my betas, AngelFinally and folc4evernaday, for helping me shape this idea into a respectable story.

 **Summary:** Dashing, duplicitous, and dangerous- billionaire Clark Kent of CK Enterprises may have more than one skeleton in his closet and several women on his heels, but he's always been single-minded in his goal: to destroy Lex Luthor. All that changes when he meets Luthor's girl. Torn between revenge and stealing Lois Lane's heart, Clark must decide what means more to him before it all falls apart. But in a world where good and evil are relative terms, can soul mates still survive?

* * *

 **Act One: Sinnerman**

 _"If you are interested in stories with happy endings, you would be better off reading some other books. In this book, not only is there no happy ending, there is no happy beginning and very few happy things in the middle."_

Lemony Snicket, _The Bad Beginning_

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Not How the Story Goes**

The tremor didn't come back until after her act ended. She stepped away from the microphone gave a little bow, and stepped off stage. She breathed through it, shaking off the nerves. A showstopper she was not, but she could carry a tune, and she could flirt with the best of them. And with the club's smokey, seedy atmosphere, those two things would get her far enough. She took a moment to breathe backstage, ran a finger under each eye to make sure her makeup was intact.

"Hey, Lola! Good set, but you gotta work the floor a little. Get back out there."

She shot Johnny a dark scowl.

"And ease up on the attitude a little."

He wisely ducked away before she could reply to that, but his words left her stewing with anger. She knew this wasn't the best of places, but she honestly couldn't believe this guy. Part of her wished that he would get raked over the coals by these so-called Toasters. He was lucky she had her own job to do. Lois gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror, cocked her hip to the side and plastered on a dazzling smile.

Showtime.

She waltzed back out there, a suggestive sway to her hips, and took command of the room once again. A thrill chased up her spine as she absorbed the atmosphere of the club and exuded the same sort of unearned confidence. The dingy bar, smells of expensive smoke and cheap perfumes all swirled together. The almost palpable excitement that bustled through everyone in the room.

Well, not everyone. Tall dark and handsome in the corner over there at the bar seemed too broody for the club tonight, not at all like most of their other patrons. He sat, swirling his three fingers of scotch, deep in thought. Suddenly, he seemed to become aware of her staring, and dark, fascinating eyes stared back at her through thick glasses frames. There was something hidden in them— a kind of spark, but not the kind you read about in romance novels— a kind of intellect, a sharpness to them that as hard as he tried to keep hidden it simply couldn't be dulled.

Lois shuddered as his gaze dropped down to the rest of her body and the rather obvious lack of attire. She suddenly wished that she had worn something a little less skimpy for her act tonight— something that didn't essentially boil down to a one-piece swimsuit and some pantyhose along with what her sister would designate as stripper heels. And at the same time, when his gaze met hers once again, a warm feeling flooded through her bones and part of her was glad that she didn't. Lust knifed through her brutally, and if she were in any other circumstances, she was worried with how she would react to such a feeling. As it was, his gaze was intoxicating.

She was compelled to approach him, why she did not know. Something about him just screamed that they should meet, would meet, had met before. It would almost be eerie, if it weren't downright exciting. She lightly smacked a grabby hand out of the way as she weaved through the smokey crowd to his side.

He watched her carefully as she approached him, seeming to size her up as though he wasn't sure whether to show interest or run away. Something in her expression must have loosened him, though, and he turned to face her more fully when she reached his side. Lois smiled encouragingly. "Hey there, stranger."

He glanced at her face briefly before picking up his scotch once again and taking another sip. "Hey yourself."

Okay, so strike one. She'd get him to open up yet. He was a story, she just hadn't figured it out yet. "Why the long face?"

A sour look crossed his expression before he turned away from her completely. "Sorry. I'm not here for that kind of companionship tonight."

Lois was about to fire back a smart retort, asking who it was he thought she was when she suddenly remembered herself and bit her tongue. She allowed herself to take a few calming breaths before deigning to reply. It was hard to remember sometimes; the role was just so easy to absorb.

It frightened her how easy it was.

Instead she gulped back her indignation and spoke up. "Hey, I didn't say I was offering anything more, now did I? I just asked a question, that's all. You looked lonely. A gal like me knows what that's like. Now, you gonna talk or what?"

The man seemed surprised at the amount of fire and passion in her before remembering his melancholy state and closing in on himself as he downed the rest of his drink. Lois sighed and tapped the counter of the bar. "Hey Joey, could I get some neat scotch for my friend over here? On me." The bartender gave her a curt nod and quickly fulfilled her task. She passed him the drink with a smile. "There you go."

"Thanks..." he frowned, as if waiting for her to fill in the blank with her name.

"Lola," she supplied rather easily. "Lola Dane."

"Lola," tall dark and dangerous repeated, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Thanks."

"You're quite welcome. Now, were you gonna tell me what brings you here on this fine Sunday evening?"

He looked down at the countertop, and for a moment Lois feared that she had lost him again when he finally spoke. "My... my father. It's the ten year anniversary of his death."

Lois was suddenly awash with pain for the stranger. He only looked maybe a year or so older than her, but there was so much depth to those features. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

He grimaced. "It's okay. We weren't all that... close for a while."

"Do you mind if I ask how it happened?" She spoke timidly, almost afraid to speak up.

The man shook his head. "It doesn't matter. He's gone now. And it's probably for the best anyway."

That certainly was a 180 pivot, Lois observed. His reaction didn't match his response. So of course she probed more. "How is your mother handling it?"

He scoffed at that, taking her by surprise. "I wouldn't know. Haven't seen her in... about as long." He scowled bitterly into his scotch, not at all remorseful for what he'd just said.

Lois was taken aback. He seemed so nonchalant about it, but there was still that something there, lurking in his eyes, behind those heavy glasses frames. And it was the exact opposite of nonchalant and unaffected— lying somewhere on the spectrum between anger, sadness and cold calculation.

And as nice as he looked and as genuinely sad as he seemed, it gave him a sharp, almost dangerous edge. Lois wasn't quite sure what to make of it all, and yet somehow with all of that going on, she still found herself somewhat attracted. _You always do this, Lane. Don't fall for the bad boys._

She gave him a small, sad smile. "I'm sorry to hear that. I don't have the most stable of relationships with my parents, either, but that really sucks."

He gave a small scoff. "Yeah. Anyway, I'm over it."

No, he wasn't. Lois gave him a dubious look, but didn't verbalize her thoughts on the matter. You never knew how someone was going to react. Especially someone who was already giving off a don't-mess-with-me vibe.

"So that's pretty much my story. What's yours, Lola?"

Suddenly the tables had turned and Lois wasn't prepared. She didn't know how to respond to that— after all, she was undercover here at the club, and she was waiting for her date to come and rescue her, to help the act flow smoothly without interruption. "Oh, you could probably guess. I had a troubled childhood. My mom went crazy when I was young and left us in my horrible father's capable hands. I got thrown out of the house at sixteen, been doing my best to make it in the city. You know, the usual."

A quizzical look crossed his face for a moment before he replied. "That is the usual, but it's not what I would have guessed."

Lois felt her pulse quicken. "No?"

He shook his head before tilting it and looking out at her sideways. "No. I'd wager that you grew up in the city. You might have had a troubled past and an abusive father, but unfortunately you grew up with both parents— which made your home worse. And most of all, I don't think you belong here."

Lois' mouth was dry out of fear. "Boy, you sure know how to sweet talk a girl," she blanched. He couldn't possibly know that, she told herself. It was a good guess and nothing more. And even though her mother did leave when she was 13 for a rehab facility and never returned, somehow arming him with that information in an attempt to correct him felt like the wrong choice.

He smirked. It was a delicious, toe-curling thing that Lois fought her body on tooth and nail. How could she go from scared witless that he'll blow her cover or worse to hopelessly turned on in a matter of mere seconds? "Yeah, well, I've had a little bit of experience in the matter."

"Have you now?" Lois asked, feigning disinterest. She had to get some distance from this man.

But the man didn't respond. In fact, he didn't acknowledge he'd heard he at all. He had gone totally stiff, straightening up and narrowing his gaze on someone behind her. She turned to see what he was looking at, only to find her beau, her rescuer just walking in the bar. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. Lois turned back to find her current companion scowling at the man, and wondered what could have provoked such a reaction out of him.

After all, Lex Luthor was the biggest philanthropist in Metropolis.

She shook herself of the thought. This was her out. "Looks like my regular's arrived. If you'll excuse me—"

He seemed to consider for a moment before he nodded. "Of course. I'll let you get back to work, Miss Dane."

Slightly bristling and not quite sure why, Lois made her way away from the stranger and to her boyfriend who was putting on quite a good show of getting comfortably settled in his environment, like it was something he did every single day. No one would question him, no one would question her with him, and the strange man would be out of her mind.

Briefly she gave one last look back and saw him practically glaring at herself and Lex.

It made her shudder.

* * *

The glass made a satisfying thunk as it hit the counter. The bartender's eyes darted over to him at the sound, discretely trying to assess whether he was at a point where he'd have to be cut off. Clark laughed at himself. He was a good ten thousand glasses away from that. This was quite literally just a waste of money.

And yet, he tapped the rim again anyways, trying to get the bartender's attention for a refill. The man acquiesced with a nod, and turned to grab the top shelf scotch. Clark almost smiled at the man as the amber liquid splashed against the confines of the glass. He told himself he would savor the flavor of this one longer, appreciate it. Sure he had more money than god, but that didn't mean he had to draw so much attention to himself.

That was his father's voice, slicing through his head like a hot knife. Clark winced, took another sip. Back to the reason he was here. If only it was so easy to forget. He swished the drink between his teeth as if it were mouthwash, the thickness of it coating his tongue and momentarily distracting him once again, even if the alcohol didn't do much of anything.

Clark was doing his very best to keep his composure. This was the closest he had come to Lex Luthor in public in a very long time. It put him slightly on edge. And the woman—

He didn't know quite what to make of her. She couldn't possibly be who she said she was. He had eyes on Luthor for a while now, and never once did he recall Luthor making a stop at this club. So he wasn't a regular, and there's no way this woman should know him as such. Unless she was his cover for something else— what he had no idea. In that case, Lola Dane was nothing more than an alias.

Whoever she was, though, she was smokin' hot. As in drop dead gorgeous. Clark took the time to appreciate her figure once more. He had been with many different women before, all beautiful and from numerous places across the globe, but for some reason, this one was different. There was this air about her that went farther than just looks, deeper than just intelligence. That must have been how she got him to open up so much. She was a mystery, a challenge.

Clark loved a good challenge.

He finished his drink and debated whether or not to have another when he decided he had better things to do than literally waste his money. He slammed the glass down and tossed a couple of bills on the countertop effortlessly before getting up and putting on his jacket.

Joey, the bartender, came by and picked up the glass and the cash. His eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets when he saw what was left. "Um, sir? I don't think you meant to leave—"

Clark waved a hand at the kid. "Keep it. From what I hear of your boss, you guys don't get paid nearly as much as you should for what you put up with."

The bartender's eyebrows rose to his hairline, and Clark watched with a smirk as all the pieces fell into place. Rich man, wearing glasses, making snarky comments about a man that _no one_ dared talk about behind his back... "M-Mr. Kent?"

Clark raised a finger to his lips and the young man shut up instantly. "I don't need anyone else knowing I'm here. In fact, I'd prefer it if you forgot, too."

The kid nodded fiercely. "Yes, sir, Mr. K— er—"

"King. Charlie King," Clark corrected as he made his way towards the door.

"Right. Mr. King. Have a good evening." The kid looked down once more in shock at the hundred dollar bills he had in his hands before shoving them in his back pocket. Clark smiled as he heard the man whisper with awe under his breath. "Clark freakin' Kent."

He hunkered his shoulders down a little as he walked past, trying to pass by unnoticed, only to pause briefly at the door and give Lex Luthor and his assumed escort one last glance. His gaze staying longer on the latter. Only this time, he wasn't looking purely for recreational purposes. It was with a cold calculation he evaluated her. Beautiful, of course. And her voice— that sultry voice wrapped around his heart like a vice. But there was something more to it than that. The way Lex looked at her, as though he were in love with her; the way she seemed in control and unaffected by his attentions... Not to mention, of course, the way that something inside him was drawn to her, as if she was the piece to a puzzle that he hadn't known was missing.

She changed things. Always before, it had simply been about Luthor and taking him off his pedestal. But now, it wasn't enough to just destroy the man's financial empire, or his reputation, or his business or even the man himself.

No. Now, he wanted Lex Luthor's girl.

With a silent vow to himself that he would find out who she was, Clark Kent strode out of the Metro Club and into the brisk night air.


	2. The Pretty Reckless

**Chapter 2: The Pretty Reckless**

 _Smallville, 1975_

Clark started noticing it yesterday. That feeling of being watched. At first, it was nothing. But then, he started running around the farm, _[i]really[/i]_ running. A jolt of excitement ran through him. Right when he began running faster than the barncat when he'd accidentally lit his tail on fire, he felt as though someone had noticed him. It caused him to trip, skid to a stop and rip through his mother's garden in the process. He cringed. Mom was going to be so mad. He picked himself up, dusted himself off, and for a brief moment when he looked up, he thought he saw someone in the distance, staring at him. He couldn't quite make it out. By the time he was able to focus his vision, however, the watcher was gone.

Perhaps he hadn't seen anything. After all, he was quite a ways away. And Dad would flip if he even thought that someone might have seen him do something a little more than ordinary.

Clark looked over the damage done to the garden and cringed once more. Yeah, that was definitely more than ordinary.

So, for now, Clark decided to ignore what he thought he saw, and he'd tell his parents about it when he either had more concrete evidence or at a time when he wouldn't already be in big trouble.

* * *

 _Metropolis 1993_

"Lois, Chief wants to see you about something in his office," James remarked quietly as he rushed past her desk.

Lois sighed irritably. Kids these days. Sure, she understood taking your work seriously, but at least she knew how to cut loose sometimes, live a little. James Olsen— who hated being called Jimmy but Lois called him that anyway— was only an intern, but as far as he was concerned, he was going to be the best damn intern the world had ever saw... until he got promoted.

She caught the scrawny kid looking her way once again with a frown on his face and decided to head towards Perry's office before he came back over. He arched an eyebrow and she threw her hands up in surrender and stood up. "Fine!" she muttered, marching straight into Perry White's office.

Perry startled when she threw the door open. "Whaddya want, Perry?"

He glanced outside into the bullpen nervously. "Would you mind shutting the door, Lois?"

Lois did as she was told. If there was one person she responded the best to, it was Perry White. She took a seat across from his desk and softened her tone. "What's going on, Chief?"

He looked stressed and more concerned than usual. A hand flew to the top of his head and began worrying at the hair there. "It's the paper. I... I don't know how to explain, really—"

Lois furrowed her brow in confusion. "Is there something wrong with my articles?"

"Hmm? Oh, no— honey, this has nothing to do with you or your writing."

"Then what—"

"It's our advertisers. They're dropping like flies. It's like they know something we don't... I don't know what's going on, but if things keep going at this rate, I'm worried that the Daily Planet isn't going to stand for much longer."

Lois felt like she'd been punched in the gut. "The Planet? Go under? B-but—"

"I don't like it any more than you do, Lois."

She was in shock. Lois slumped back into her chair. How could this happen? The Daily Planet had been printed for two hundred and nineteen years! A newspaper like that going out of business was unheard of! And just why were the advertisers backing out? What happened that scared them off so much? What were they hiding? Obviously, there had to be some reason for it; they couldn't just back out for no reason! And how could they stop it?

Wait a minute. Lois forced her wayward thoughts to grind to quick halt. Before she overwhelmed herself with all of this anxiety, she should at least find out more details. "Perry, why are you telling me this? What am I supposed to do about it?"

He shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable with what he was about to say and eyeing her warily like she was a long dormant volcano. She scowled and crossed her arms. He acted like she was a child sometimes. "Now, listen darling. I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't think it was my only option. And I don't want you to worry about anything just yet— barring any major changes in circumstance, we've still got some time here, thanks to contracts—"

"Perry, just spit it out already."

Perry nodded as though stealing himself. "Okay. Do you, uh... well see, I know you have a personal relationship with Lex Luthor. And I know this may be out of line for me to ask, but he's the only man I can think of who would have the means, but could you ask him to look into it? Maybe try to see what's going on with the advertisers and such..."

Lois furrowed her brow in thought. "You can look into that yourself, Perry, and you know it. What's the real reason?"

He sighed and shifted some papers around on his desk. "I want it on his radar in case all this hits the fan. I'm hoping that he cares enough for you to keep the place you work intact, you know what I mean?"

Lois fought the urge to let her mouth hang open. "You want Lex to buy the Daily Planet?"

Perry leaned forward, quick to defend himself in this one matter. "It makes sense, doesn't it? The man's got deep enough pockets. He might not even have to buy it— just pay off some of the advertisers or something to stay onboard. And he's already said he'd do pretty much anything for you—"

"He never said that," Lois interjected, starting to feel uncomfortable with all this speculation.

"Lois, the man proposed to you! And you turned him down! And he's still stuck around! If that's not commitment then I don't know what is."

Lois flushed. She hadn't told anyone except Perry about Lex's proposal, and now here he was using it as blackmail. [i]Low blow, Perry White.[/i] "It's not that simple, Perry—"

"You think if you told him what was going on with the Planet— the job you love so much— that he wouldn't jump and buy us out?"

"He already has one media outlet—"

"Perfect! Then he's got experience in the field."

Lois rubbed her temples soothingly. "Perry," her tone took on a note of pleading.

Her boss noticed how this was all impacting her and laid off it for a moment. "I'm sorry, darling. But I'm just trying to get you to see what's going to happen. If we can't get more advertising support, the owners are going to have to sell the paper. And it can go to someone good, or it can go to someone bad, or it can just wither away. If push comes to shove, I'd rather it be Lex than that last one."

Lois sighed audibly. She knew he was right. It wasn't fair, but it was true. "I'll think about it, okay?"

Perry nodded at her. "Good girl. That's all I ask."

* * *

Clark Kent stood outside in the alleyway, waiting patiently for his informant to meet him. If he knew the man at all, he'd be walking around this corner in five, four, three, two, one—

"I say, sir, do you have the time?"

Clark grinned devilishly. "Only if you give me your watch."

The taller, old English gentleman mustered a smug smirk of sorts, which Clark knew to be about as good as it got when it came to Nigel St. John cracking a smile at a joke. They walked a bit farther into the darkness of the alleyway before uttering a word, making sure they were away from prying eyes and ears.

"Hey, buddy... You got a buck?"

Clark was rifling through his wallet the moment the homeless man's voice reached his ears. He pulled out a few hundred dollar bills and thrust them into the beggar's hands irritably. "Here. Grab your things and get out of this place. Go buy yourself a meal."

The man's eyes opened wide at seeing all of the money that literally just fell into his lap. He looked up at Clark with wonder in his eyes. "You must be some kind of angel, bro—"

"Did I stutter? Get the hell out, before I change my mind!"

The man recoiled, and Clark fought back his wolfish grin. He knew what a picture he must make. The generous businessman, going from kind to belligerent in a matter of moments, frightening him. He watched behind the homeless man's eyes as it clicked that he must have intruded on some very private business and that if he didn't do what was asked, he'd be in trouble, so he did as told and bolted.

Clark rolled his eyes, back to irritated and impatient. Nigel simply chuckled, speaking only after the man left. "You've always had a bit of an issue with patience, haven't you sir?"

Clark shrugged. "What can I say? I had an unstable childhood and a nearly unlimited supply of funds. If I can throw money at a problem to make it go away, I will."

"Sort of going for the opposite approach now, aren't we?"

Clark nodded fiercely as Nigel brought him back on track. "Right. So how goes the ad hunt anyways?"

"All but three companies have dropped their support of the Daily Planet, with another one... shall we say, in negotiations. And not to worry, I used some of the lower-level people involved with Lexcorp, so it'll still trackback."

"Excellent." Clark was brusque, no muss, no fuss. Exactly the way he liked it. "Let me know when the others pull out."

"Sir, if I may enquire," Nigel spoke slowly, as though slightly frightened by what sort of response he may get. Clark knew Nigel better than anyone could, and knew that he wouldn't have spoken up if it weren't for good reason. He paused as though considering a moment, before finally Clark nodded to get him to continue. "Why is ruining the Daily Planet so important? Everything you've had me do before has had some kind of direct impact on Mr. Luthor. But Lex doesn't have any part in the Daily Planet."

"You're absolutely right, Nigel. He does not."

The ex-intelligence agent frowned. "But why?"

Clark laughed a bit menacingly. "Oh, Nigel. You are good. You know, if it were anybody else, I wouldn't even let them question me."

"I am well aware, sir." He did a good job trying to hide his spike of fear at Clark's words. Pointless, but a good effort, Clark thought.

"Okay. So let me put it this way. Lex isn't directly involved with the Planet yet. But he is involved with someone at the Planet. I'd like to know exactly how involved he is."

A single arched eyebrow betrayed his surprise. "Ms. Lane? What do you want with her?"

"Nothing. I just know that the deeper involved he gets with her, the more complicated my life becomes. So, we're going to push everyone into their place on the stage, and let the chips fall where they may."

If Nigel was any more surprised by his friend and colleague's comment, he didn't say so. Clark took that as a good thing. "Is there anything I should know about Lois Lane that I don't already?"

Nigel nodded. "A few odds and ends of course. She's the Daily Planet's top reporter, loves undercover work, likes to cut loose sometimes. She's known Lex Luthor for about a year now— they met at a press conference for some pretentious cause or other that he'd signed up for, and she'd gotten to know him. They've been officially dating for about ten months now."

Clark nodded, taking all of it in with slow deliberation. "What are their feelings towards each other?"

"Lex is absolutely enamored with her. In fact, rumor has it he proposed to her a couple of months ago. Lois turned him down though. Something about not wanting to tether herself to anyone, give up her freedom or some other self-righteous speech of the kind."

"So his feelings obviously run deeper than hers," he stated flatly, putting the pieces together.

"I would say so. They're not broken up, so I know she still likes him well enough, and Lex would hang around to the bitter end like a puppy if she'd let him. I know he still keeps the ring in his desk drawer, just in case."

Clark filed all this information away in the back of his brain, to be judiciously used later. "Is that all you have?"

Nigel shrugged his shoulders slightly. "All I can think of that's pertinent."

Clark nodded absently. "All right. Let me know if anything else comes up." Nigel gave a curt nod of his own and began to walk away when Clark's voice pulled him back. "Oh, and Nigel?"

"Yes, Mr. Kent?"

Clark smiled. "I have a feeling that we're closer to the end of this road than ever before. Be prepared for anything."

A twisted sort of grin suddenly took over Nigel St. John's expression. "I'm never unprepared, sir."

Clark eyed him judiciously, and gave him a slight nod. And with that, they went their separate ways.


	3. Fragile

**Chapter 3: Fragile**

"Lois, my dear, what's on your mind tonight?"

Lois startled from her thoughts suddenly and glanced up at Lex. "Hmm?"

Lex looked even more concerned, if that were possible. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh, yes. I'm fine Lex."

"Well, you most certainly are _fine_ ," he emphasized with a wag of his brows, prompting Lois to roll her eyes at him and Lex grew serious again. "But you have a funny way of showing it if you are."

Lois huffed a sigh as she stabbed another forkful of leafy greens and directed it into her mouth. Lex was right. She was not alright. Her earlier conversation with Perry had completely thrown her off of her game. The idea that she might not work at the Daily Planet— that there might not be a Daily Planet to work at soon— completely devastated her. This was her life's work. This was how she coped. Chasing stories, running headlong into danger, having new experiences— it meant the world to her. And she often was able to choose her own assignments, manage her own time, partner-free... Would any other paper she worked for allow her such freedoms? Would any other boss be as forgiving as Perry White?

"Lois?" Lex's voice intruded again, this time accompanied by a caressing hand over her own. Lois glanced down at it briefly and was suddenly awash with guilt. Lex cared so deeply for her. She didn't know why. "Tell me. What is it?"

She sighed finally before looking up to meet her boyfriend's earnest eyes. "Perry thinks the Planet is going under."

Lex's reaction was instantaneous as his eyebrows practically jumped to his hairline. "What? How is that possible?"

Lois shook her head fiercely, letting it all tumble out of her now. "I don't know. Sales haven't been as good lately. Perry says a lot of the advertisers are backing out and not giving a reason why."

Lex cleared his throat and jumped into the fray. "Maybe there's an explanation for all this—"

"Oh, don't give me that kid glove crap, Lex. You know as well as I do what that means. They don't want to cause a stir so they're going to let us just ride it out until there's nothing else to say except have fun with the job hunt."

Lex folded his hands calmly, and Lois scowled. How could he be so calm when she was clearly stewing? She supposed it was a good thing. They couldn't both go flying off the handle all the time. But it wouldn't hurt if he got outraged on her behalf _some_ of the times. She picked over her plate again. "I don't know. You're right. There has to be some explanation. I didn't think our numbers were doing that bad. We've got better readership than the Metropolis Star, and they're still kicking. But this is just out of nowhere. I don't know what to do. Perry thinks we need a buyout, get some fresh blood into the company…" She trailed off when she looked up again only to find Lex's eyes glazed over, fixated on her mouth. She stopped and gave him a dirty look. "Lex? Lex Luthor, are you listening to me?"

He shook himself, as though he hadn't realized she had been speaking the whole time. "I'm sorry, darling. I was distracted by your immense beauty." That earned him an eyeroll and another forceful stab at her dinner. "What were you saying?"

Lois sighed and put her fork down onto the white table cloth gently. No sense beating around the bush. "Perry thinks you should try to buy the Planet. You know, as a backup plan in case things do go south. But I don't know if that's a good idea—"

Lex's eyes lit up almost instantly. "You're joking, right? That's a fantastic idea! Why, I can't believe I didn't think of it myself!"

Lois beat back the urge to roll her eyes once again and instead focused on her concern over the matter, wringing her hands slightly. "But Lex, if there really is a problem with the paper and you sink yourself into it, then—"

"Lois, my dear, you must know I've got deeper pockets than that," he chided. "Besides, then I could have a legitimate excuse for hanging out around your place of work all day long. It would be perfect."

Lois turned her eyes away and once again started playing with her food. She hated it when he got too sentimental. She liked Lex, a lot, maybe even a little too much. But he was a bit intense for her. She hadn't ever said she'd loved him, and he spouted off the phrase like it were nothing. It was hard for her to trust. "You wouldn't have to do it just for me."

His jaw slackened, and she braced herself for an impending argument about her self-worth and his undying love.

* * *

Lex's shoulders slumped slightly, and Lois squirmed in her seat as he examined her discomfort. She went through these mood spirals every so often. He hated that she had such self-esteem issues. He hated her father for instilling them into her, for ever laying a hand on her that wasn't loving and gentle, for telling her she would never be good enough. He didn't know how to prove to her that he was in this for the long haul any more than he already had. He did things for her, spent time and money on her- not for any ulterior motive- but because he wanted to. It was a constant battle with the demons her abusive father had created within her, and a lot of times, it felt like a losing one. But he also knew he couldn't give up. He had to power through, keep showing her how amazing and wonderful she was, in spite of her inner monologue.

After all, he knew what it was like to have an abusive father, too.

He placed a gentle hand over hers and looked into her face. "Look at me. Lois, look at me." She finally dragged her gaze over and locked eyes with him. He couldn't let himself get too lost in those shimmering pools of brown or else he'd lose track of what he was trying to say. "I'm doing it because I love you." He ignored the flinch that ran through her as he said the words and kept his hand and his gaze steady. "I want to share all that I have with you. I don't want you to be sad, ever, and losing the Daily Planet would make you inconsolable. I know you, Lois. I know how you feel about your job. So if there's a chance I can save it, I will. End of discussion. Understand?"

She simply nodded in response and took another bite of her salad, but it sure didn't feel like she was understanding him. It didn't feel like she was even listening to him.

Lex didn't move his gaze away, instead staring at her in the tense silence. "You know, Lois, my offer is still on the table."

She froze, fork halfway to her mouth and jaw hung open.

He mistakenly took her silence as a cue to continue. "You know there's nothing more I would want in the world—"

"Lex," her voice was low with warning.

"I would be honored if you would become my—"

"Don't!" Lois bolted upright out of her chair and threw down her fork. "Don't you say the word, Lex! You know how I feel about this— I thought we went over this twice already?!"

"Yes, but my darling—" He tried and failed to cut in.

"No! I thought you understood, I'm not ready yet, and the more you push the issue the longer it's going to take me to be ready for... the next step. I don't know if I'll ever be ready because of how many walls I have up, but for God's sake, Lex! You can't re-propose to me every time the mood strikes you!"

"Lois, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to catch you off guard, I just thought the moment was right and it was kind of a good segue—"

"Well, it wasn't." Lois pushed her chair in and bent over to pick up her clutch.

Lex sighed and stood to follow her. "Lois, where are you going?"

"I'm suddenly no longer hungry. And I remembered that I've got work to do." She started to stomp off towards the door.

"Lois, please, stay. Chef Andre prepared your favorite dessert— his seven layer chocolate cake—"

"Well, have him make me a to go bag, then!" Lois retorted.

"Lois, wait," he placed a gentle hand on her forearm and ducked when she flung her other arm back at him. He quickly realized his mistake and released her, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Fire burned in her eyes as she whirled on him. "Don't," she hissed dangerously, "don't you [i]ever[/i] grab me again."

Lex, finally defeated, hung his head with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just don't want to fight."

Lois ran her eyes searchingly over his expression, as if she were looking for any hint of deception, but came up empty. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and Lex saw that she knew she'd overreacted. "You know how that gets to me," she spoke in a tone of apology, which Lex knew was about as close you got to an actual I'm-sorry from Lois Lane.

He nodded and repeated himself once more. "I know. I'm sorry. I don't want you to leave angry."

Lois made a clicking noise with her tongue unconsciously which reminded Lex of her mother— words that he would never utter in this lifetime or the next. Then finally she sighed and acknowledged his words. "I know, I'm not angry. I just... I'm tired and stressed. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Lex nodded and leaned forward to place a peck on her cheek before she had the chance to object. "All right. Would you like one of my drivers to take you home?"

She shook her head. "No, I think I could use the walk to clear my head a bit. It's a nice night."

"You sure?" he asked, concern written plainly across his features, but he dared not say anything else that might land him in hot water tonight.

She leveled him with a sharp glare.

Lex raised his hands once more. "Okay. See you tomorrow, then. And I'll talk to some people about looking into the Planet's finances, all right? I'll try to get to the bottom of this." He'd try to buy it first, he thought. He could dig into their finances after. But he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass him by. He gave her a quick smile and blurted out yet another "I love you."

She nodded blankly, not really caring at this point, and Lex regretted ever bringing the topic up. "Bye," she muttered and turned quickly to head to the elevators and out towards the night, yet again not returning the words.


	4. Smoke on the Water

Lois finally got inside her apartment and slammed the door heavily behind her. She stomped halfway across her living room before returning and locking the dead bolts. Feeling a bit better already, she smiled smugly to herself.

With a sigh of relief, Lois began removing her coat and unbuttoning her blouse as she made her way back to her bedroom, shedding layers as she went. She could feel a major weight lift off her shoulders as she changed into her more comfortable pajamas and finally let loose a little. Of course, as soon as she started to get comfortable, her mind decided to turn to Lex Luthor.

Why did he always have to do that? He knew her history better than anyone. He knew how much marriage, and the L-word, scared her. He knew she watched her own parent's marriage tumble into pain and suffering, and an eventual split, how her father had abused their whole family in the process, how her mother had a permanent room in rehab due to the fallout of it all. What in his right mind made him think that she would possibly ever be ready for a relationship as serious as the one he wanted?

And then, of course, there was the whole issue of what Lois felt for him.

Lois groaned loudly and stomped off towards the kitchen. If she was going to get existential and debate herself for the rest of the night, then she was going to need _something_ to get her through it. She flung open the freezer door however and found it bereft of anything that could be arguably considered chocolate. Spying what looked to be an ice cream container in the back, she rummaged around a bit, face lighting up as she pulled it out—

"Lemon cheesecake?!" she uttered aloud in disgust upon reading the label. "Dammit, Lucy! Why can't you be normal and like Rocky Road!"

Frustrated, and wishing she had taken up Lex's offer of cake for the road, she tossed the carton back in haphazardly and slammed the door of the freezer, feeling more and more upset without anything to pour her feelings into.

Her gaze immediately shifted over to the cabinet where she kept her basic food staples like flour, sugar, and her spice rack.

 _No!_ her subconscious rang out. _Don't even go there. You've been doing so good lately. Lex has been so proud of you._

Lois stood there, tapping her short nails furiously on the countertop, trying to beat back the craving. It had been a week already, and she was doing well so far. Apart from those first few days— those were tough. Hence her bitten-down nails and the obvious lack of chocolate in the house. She listened to how quiet the apartment was, how clean it looked without Lucy there. It was so calm, so quiet.

"Ah, screw it," she cried out and spun on her heel to reach up into the cabinet, blindly looking for what should have been there. She couldn't take it anymore. There was no distraction, no chocolate, and she didn't have a single nail left to chew on anxiously.

"Aha!" Her fingers found what she was looking for, and a little thrill of excitement ran up her spine. Quickly, she opened the pack and drew out the first cigarette of the pack— the first of her week— and lit it. Taking a long drag off of it, she finally felt the tension leave her shoulders and was delighted at the puff of smoke that followed her sigh. It suddenly seemed like a lifetime had gone by since her last smoke, and she had no idea why she quit in the first place.

No, she knew why. Lex. Lois found herself growling irritably and raised the cig up to her lips once again. Well, she was mad at him right now. Served him right for being an ass. He had no control over what she did with her life. It was _her_ life! Who was he to tell her what she can and can't do? If she wanted a smoke, then she was damn well gonna smoke. Feeling a bit smug now, Lois smirked to herself and happily puffed away at her well deserved treat. It wasn't like many people even knew she smoked anyway. What was a harmless puff every now and again?

She heard the front door shake and someone clearly trying to open it from the outside. Frowning, Lois set down her cigarette on the countertop and went to investigate. It couldn't be Lex, could it? He wouldn't come by so soon after a fight.

A loud curse reached Lois' ears from the other side of the door and she rolled her eyes to herself. She decided to let her sister squirm a moment, shouting her name and knocking fiercely, before swiftly opening the door and almost causing Lucy to fall inside.

"God, Lois! You have to lock all the deadbolts every time?"

Lucy strolled past her, the smell of alcohol coming off her in droves. "Geez, Lucy, maybe if you didn't get so roaring drunk all the time, it wouldn't be this big of a problem." Lois shut the front door firmly.

"I am not drunk! I'll have you know I can hold my liquor quite well, thank you very much."

It was so nice to have her sister temporarily living with her. Lois barely smothered the urge to laugh at her own joke.

"Judas Priest!" her sister's voice carried loudly across the apartment. "Lois, did you try cooking something real or are you just smoking like a chimney again?! Crack a window, for Pete's sake!"

Lois scowled at the sound of her kid sister criticizing her again. "You know, you've been living here rent free for the past three months—"

"All right! All right. I get it. Geez, someone's snippy tonight."

Lucy grabbed a soda from the fridge and gracelessly plopped down on a barstool in the kitchen. "So, what is it this time, sis?"

Lois weighed the options in telling her sister what had happened tonight. It certainly would take some weight off her shoulders, then again—

"Let me guess: another fight with Lex?" Lois opened her mouth to protest, but when met with the arched eyebrow of Lucy Lane, she promptly shut it. "Yeah, I thought so. What was it about?"

Lois reached for her cigarettes again, lighting a second one. "He proposed again."

Lucy lost her calm composure as quickly as she had got it. "Again? Are you kidding me? What is that, the tenth time? What did you say? I don't see a ring on your finger."

Lois shot her a sharp glare that silenced _that_ train of thought. "Third, if you must know. And anyways, that's not what it was really all about."

"Okay, so what was it this time?"

The constant repetition of the phrase was grating on her, but she knew she couldn't get away with avoiding the topic. Lois chewed her bottom lip before confessing all. There wasn't much she could ever keep from her little sister. She was basically the only real family Lois had left. "Perry is worried the Planet's going under. Our advertisers keep dropping, and if he can't find someone to inject some new life into it, a.k.a. money, then it might not make it at all."

"Lois, that's awful! I'm so sorry."

"It gets worse," Lois fidgeted with her smoke for a moment. "He thinks I should talk Lex into buying it."

Lucy's jaw dropped slightly. "And he said no? To you?!"

Lois shook her head vehemently. "No, of course not. He basically said he'd do whatever it takes to make me happy, and that's when he lead in with the whole marriage bit."

Lucy sat pensively for a long moment of suspicious silence. Lois cut her eyes to her with a glare, waiting for the wheels in her slightly-more-than-intoxicated sister's head to turn. "He's nice. Good guy." Lucy looked up with her lips pursed. "You're not happy, though, are you?"

Lois simply shrugged as she continued to puff away.

"Maybe it's just the stress of it all," Lucy started carefully. "You're relationship issues—"

"Watch it," she bit out defensively.

"Maybe the worry about the Daily Planet failing has just got you all riled up. I mean, look at you, you've gone through what looks like two cigarettes already in one night when you haven't smoked this much in so long. And you know you smoke when you're stressed."

Lois eyed her sister mock-suspiciously. "You're starting to sound a little bit like a therapist there, Luce. I thought you'd switched majors to boys or something," she teased.

Lucy threw her hands up. "You know, you're incorrigible sometimes. I say, if you don't like him, quit stringing him along! Cut the cord already! If you do, then stop flipping out at him every time he wants to be intimate!"

"Trust me, it's not the intimacy that's the problem," Lois wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and Lucy smacked her forehead with a groan.

"Okay, that's it for me. This is heading into I-don't-wanna-know territory, so I'm going to bed now."

Lois grinned at her success in getting Lucy off her back. "G'night Luce!" A mumbled "whatever" was tossed her way from her sister's retreating form.

As the apartment started to calm down once more, Lois finally decided it was time to put her cigarette out and head off to bed herself. She smashed the butt in the ashtray she'd returned to its rightful place on the counter and moved to turn off the lights when the phone suddenly rang and tore through the silence. Lois jumped, startled and quickly picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

 _"Lane, so glad you're at home."_

She released a small breath at realizing who it was. "Bobby, this had better be good. I was just getting ready for bed."

 _"Look, I don't got a lot of time, and I don't know much yet, but I figured you'd want to be the first to know—"_

Her ears perked up at this and suddenly she was no longer tired. "What is it? Spit it out, Bobby."

 _"There's a whole lot of buzzing going on in the streets recently, for a couple of different reasons. Number one, I thought you should be know about the Planet—"_

"I already know about our advertisers, Bobby. They're dropping like flies."

 _"No, no, no. You don't understand. They're being paid off. Bribed into dropping their support."_

Lois frowned deeply. "Bribed? Who would do that? Why would someone want the Planet to fail?"

 _"Beats me. I told ya, I don't got a lot of information yet. I'm still in the market for that. I heard a couple of rumors from some people I trust about the advertisers— one guy told me he saw a suspicious looking British guy and another man talking shop about "the ad hunt" but I don't know if I would just take his word for it. He's a little bit over the cuckoo's nest, if you know what I mean."_

Lois took in all the information coming at her and drilled her fingers against the tile counter. If their advertisers were being bribed, that meant someone either really wanted in or really wanted out. She filed away the information to process later. "Bobby, you said there was more than one thing?"

 _"Oh, yeah. You're not going to believe this one, Lane. Word on the street is that someone's finally coming out of the shadows."_

"Who, Bobby?" She was grateful for the information, but it was well past midnight and she was seriously getting tired.

 _"CK. You know, of CK Enterprises?"_

"CK Enterprises? Is that the one with the glasses logo?"

She could hear the grin in Bobby's voice as he spoke, proud of himself for finding this one out. _"Yep."_

"The one that owns a third of Metropolis real estate? The one right behind Lexcorp?"

 _"The one and only."_

Lois was floored. "You mean the actual CK is out there? The man's never even put out a publicity photo— no one even knows what he looks like! How could they possibly know it was him? Why would he come out of hiding now?"

 _"Hey, when people see you dropping huge wads of cash and you're a well dressed guy with signature glasses, people start connecting the dots. I personally don't know how or why, but word is he's not being so secretive about it anymore."_

"But why the sudden change?"

 _"Hell if I know,"_ Bobby stated. _"Look, that's all I got for ya, Lois. Just thought you should know. You owe me one heck of a meal, understand?"_

She nodded enthusiastically, smile coloring her tone. "Bobby, you just name the day and time, and I'll be there. Whatever you need. You're the best, Bobby!"

 _"Yeah, yeah, just make sure you don't forget it!"_ He hung up without saying goodbye. Typical Bobby Bigmouth.

Lois stood in the kitchen a few moments longer, now awake enough to do whatever she felt like, but instead she turned off the light and headed to her bed. If what Bobby was telling her was true, then she'd have a long week ahead of her. Unfortunately, she also knew that she wouldn't be able to contain herself and wait till Monday morning to start working on this. It was too crucial— particularly the information about the Planet— to let it go two more days.

"Well," she spoke aloud, "there goes my weekend off."


	5. Red Hands

"Clark?" a sleep-addled, almost smoky voice called out to him. "Clark, wake up! Clark!"

Finally his eyes shot open, instantly concerned that he might have done something in his sleep. Checking to make sure he was oriented correctly— still on the mattress and under the covers— he breathed a sigh of relief and ran a hand across the perspiration that gathered at his hairline. Trying to bring his racing heart back under control, he spoke softly. "Wha- What happened? What is it?"

"You were screaming in your sleep."

He closed his eyes lightly, pushing away the last vestiges of his nightmare. Of course he was screaming. Trouble was, the reality was equally as frightening.

"You were calling out for your dad?" The blonde woman questioned cautiously, digging slightly for more information as her fingertips traced a path up and down his bare chest.

A muscle in the side of his jaw twitched. "Toni," his voice was low with warning.

"I'm not saying anything," Toni Taylor defended herself. "I just think, if you had a bad dream, maybe you'd like to talk about it."

Clark couldn't repress another sigh. "Just drop it, okay?"

She acquiesced for a few moments, continuing her stroking pattern on his chest before broaching the subject once more. "What happened to your father? In your dream?"

With a groan, he rolled out of her bed and started pulling on his clothes.

"Hey, wait! Clark, what are you doing? Don't go."

He grimaced. "Look, Toni, you're a nice girl and all. Beautiful, too. And tonight... well, it was pretty great. But let's be honest with each other, I'm not here looking for a psychologist, okay? So when I say drop it, it gets dropped. Got it?"

"I'm sorry, I just was trying to help—"

"Help? Ha! Johnny's right about you. Too damn smart for your own good. A really smart person would've listened to me the first time I asked. How'd you get these ideas into your head, anyway?"

Highly insulted, Toni shrank back into herself and pulled the sheets up higher over her chest in a defensive maneuver. "I didn't mean to offend you, Mr. Kent. I'm sorry."

Clark paused for a moment, facing away from her all ready to go, and released a long sigh. He turned back and sat on the edge of the bed. "I know. You didn't offend me. It's just..." There was no plausible, no honest explanation he could give other than that his dream hit too close to home. So, he lied. "I've got a business meeting in the morning that's of utmost importance. I shouldn't have stayed over anyways."

Toni opened her mouth, probably to comment on the fact that it was only three in the morning, but Clark silenced her with a hard, fast kiss to her lips. Satisfied that she was distracted for a moment, he made his move. "Tell Johnny that he can just focus on running that club of mine, I'll worry about the threats from these so-called Toasters."

He turned to walk out of her apartment. He was almost to the door when she finally spoke again. "Will you stop by and see me again? Maybe tomorrow night?"

Her question was met with a resounding thud as the door slammed behind him.

* * *

Clark opted to walk down the street to clear his head instead of calling for a car— or worse, a taxi— to come and pick him up. He didn't know why he'd even stayed at her apartment in the first place, but it didn't matter now. His position with the Metro Club was secured once more, it was all business as usual.

This Toasters business could be a slight wrinkle, of course. When Johnny Taylor had first approached him about the threats the bar was getting, at first he was wary. It sounded almost fake. He'd known the Taylors for a few years now, and the only thing they valued more than loyalty was the skin of their own necks. He wouldn't be surprised if they turned on him.

Fortunately, as long as Toni had a soft spot for tall, dark and handsome, he had complete control over their business endeavors. Johnny could talk a big talk, but he knew the man would never do anything against him if there was a risk of harming his sister. And Clark had acquired those blackmail pictures a long time ago. Now it was just fun.

His mind turned back to the events that had led him here, the nightmare that prompted his early exodus from the bed of a beautiful woman. He shuddered slightly as he walked a bit faster along the sidewalk. Sadly, the reality was equally, if not more dreadful than the visions that plagued his sleep.

A small stab of pain hit him as he couldn't keep his mind from wandering back to that fateful evening that had started it all.

* * *

 _Smallville, 1975_

It was a few days after the garden incident when Clark found himself in much of the same position. This time, he was fixing the garden, goofing around with his recently discovered freeze breath and creating icicles hanging off the plants and roof of the barn for the fun of it.

Then he felt the eyes of the man on him again. This time, though, the man didn't hang back or disappear. Clark's heart thudded heavily in his chest as he turned his back on him and pretended to be very interested in the gardening work once more. The man was coming closer. That meant it wasn't in his head, it wasn't just a figment of his imagination, and he should have told his parents about it the first time he'd sensed someone watching.

Clark was hesitant when the man first approached. He didn't sound like he was from Kansas, and he definitely didn't recognize him from around town. He was a youngish man, younger than his parents for sure, but as usual that was all he could figure of the man's age. To Clark, like most kids his age, an adult was an adult was an adult.

"Nice work there, son."

Clark looked over his shoulder briefly before looking down at his work on the garden shyly. The man had come closer. Clark didn't like that. "Thanks, Mister—"

"Just call me Jason. What's your name?"

"Clark," he responded warily, but not wanting to be deceitful.

"Well, it's certainly nice to meet you, Clark. What sort of plants you got here?"

Clark was slightly suspicious, but answered the man in military fatigues anyways. At school, teachers were always telling them to trust people in uniform. Perhaps there wasn't anything to be worried about after all. He seemed nice enough. Then again, his father's warnings thundered through his brain, telling him not to trust anyone, no matter how likable. "Usual stuff. Tomatoes. Carrots. Some herbs."

Jason smiled. "You seem like a good boy. When I was your age, I don't think I would ever spend any time in the garden."

Clark shrugged and turned back to the dirt before him. "I'm used to it."

"You probably lived your whole life on this farm, haven't you?"

Clark thought that was an odd question, surely it was obvious, but he nodded anyway.

"How old are you, son?"

"Nine and a quarter," he stated proudly, chest puffed out with pride as children often did.

"Wow, nine and a quarter already. Been a long time then. You must've just been born last time I was out here."

Clark's curiosity got the better of him. "Did you used to live here?"

Jason shook his head, a grin on his face. "Nope. I came out here with a military unit to examine a strange asteroid landing in 1966. Of course, you probably were barely alive then."

An uneasy feeling settled in Clark's gut and he hoped it didn't show on his face. His parents had never made it a secret that he wasn't theirs— that he had landed in some sort of meteor crash and came to them like a miracle. This man, knowing so much about that very incident, could not be good news for him and his family.

"You ever hear anything about that? Maybe from your parents or around town?"

Clark shook his head fiercely, uneasy now. "No. What's a-an asteroid?"

The army man looked at him in a way that made Clark's stomach churn. After what felt like about twenty minutes of him just staring at him, but in reality had to have been only a few long seconds, Jason gave a tight-lipped smile once again. "Hey, so I was hoping to talk to somebody a bit taller. Are your parents around?"

Clark felt a shiver run up his spine. He didn't know how to answer that. He didn't want the strange man to think he was all alone out here. Despite all of the things he was learning to do, he wasn't sure his abilities would behave the same in more frightening circumstances. He swallowed. "They're always around."

Jason nodded. "Okay. Well, maybe you could take me to them? I don't want to get lost in all this farmland."

Another chill. Somehow Clark felt this man wouldn't get lost at all. Alarm bells were ringing in his head. All of those lessons in school about stranger danger were flashing through his mind, but none of the lines were matching up with what this stranger was saying. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe it was just everything his father had ever told him that was scaring him so much.

His dad. He would know what to do. His dad always knew everything.

"Okay," he said suddenly, smiling up at the man. Jason returned the smile somewhat forced. "They're probably up at the farmhouse. Come on."

They weaved their way in and out of the fields of corn and wheat, Clark taking a confusing route simply to irritate the man. He hoped against hope that Jason didn't notice any of the little irregularities around, such as the deep holes and gashes in the ground from his speed and strength, or the icicles growing in the middle of August. He tried to take him through sections that had no such things, but there was no guarantee.

Finally, they reached the house and Clark breathed a sigh of relief. "Ma! Dad! We have company!"

Martha came out of the kitchen first, wearing an apron and a smile. The smile quickly dropped, and Clark felt his stomach turn on seeing the worry on her face. She pasted on a very fake looking smile and dried her hands on her apron. "Clarkie, I assumed you meant Lana or Pete. You have to tell me if it's new company."

"Sorry, Ma."

She recovered quickly, though, and forced a smile at the man accompanying him. "Hi there. I'm Martha." She did not extend a hand in greeting, rather turning to shout to his dad upstairs, unable to keep a certain note of panic out of her voice. "Jonathan! There's a young man here to see us!"

Jonathan Kent ambled down the stairs slowly, carefully, and cast a concerned glance at his mother. Clark tried to keep his nerves from showing, because his dad would handle it. His dad was the smartest person he knew. But the apprehensive look on his father's face wasn't helping soothe his fears.

Jonathan froze when he locked eyes on the man behind him. He brushed his hands off on his pants and approached slowly with an outstretched hand. "Hello. I'm Jonathan."

Jason looked at it witheringly and did not take it. "Yes, I am well aware of who you are, Mr. Kent."

Clark's heart pounded. He knew who he was? Jason didn't say he knew his parents. Jonathan withdrew his proffered hand and folded his arms over his chest. "So you do. What can I do you for?"

"My name is Sergeant Jason Trask. I believe you remember when a few of my compatriots and I came by last time, about nine years ago. We were asking you about that meteor shower that happened."

Clark looked between Jason and his father, scrutinizing them. Neither had ever mentioned this moment to him.

"Yes, I do remember that. I also remember hearing something about that organization disbanding about six years ago?"

"Project Blue Book did, yes, but we're under new jurisdiction now, got a new name. Now Bureau 39 handles everything related to exobiology, xenoarchaeology and all things of extraterrestrial origin."

Clark swallowed and looked at his dad, who had paled at Jason's speech. He didn't know what all of those big words meant, except the last one and if he knew anything at all, he knew that he meant him.

Jonathan shifted his weight nervously but did not lower his gaze. "Well that's all fine and dandy, but I still don't see what any of this has to do with us."

Trask simply smiled, turning and putting his hands on Clark's shoulders. Clark squirmed and pulled against him, but the army man's grip remained firm. "You know, you have a remarkable young boy here."

His voice was like the hiss of a snake. Clark snapped wild, frightened eyes up to his father's and was met with a barely restrained rage radiating towards the man holding him in a grip. He had never seen his father look so angry before. That scared him more than anything. If he had remained calm, reassuring, then maybe Clark would feel more comfortable, know that his dad would take care of it and all was well. He didn't know what to make of this.

"Get. Your hands. Off. My. Son."

Jonathan's voice was hard as steel. Jason laughed, but didn't release his hold. "Relax, Mr. Kent. You're son's just fine. We were just having a little chat out in your garden a few minutes ago, weren't we Clark?"

Clark tried his best to keep from whimpering, but he was quite afraid. He looked frantically between his parent's worried and outraged expressions, hoping one of them could help him, would help him. He didn't like this man any longer— Jason, who had been so nice if not a little bit odd a few minutes ago was now menacing, threatening. It almost made Clark sick. He should have ran, told his father right away. He should have believed him— no one was to be trusted implicitly, no one was to be let in so easily.

Clark was well aware that, given his speed and other gifts, he could easily overpower this man. That wasn't the fear.

The fear was of discovery. And as long as his parents remained in control of the situation, as long as they wanted him to stand down, he would. Even if it did frighten him beyond belief.

Trask knelt down to Clark's level. "He seems to have quite a few talents. Could be useful to our cause, you know. We've been looking for this one for years now. We have his ship even— found it a couple of months ago. We know he came here as a baby. We know he's not yours," there was that hiss sound again, making Clark's spine shiver. "And we need to know what his purpose is here."

Jonathan clenched his fists so tight that Clark could almost feel the nail marks digging in himself. "I swear to God, Trask, let the boy go before I make you."

He snorted. "I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice in the matter." Before anyone was aware of what exactly had happened, Trask pulled out his service weapon and aimed it at Jonathan. Martha gasped and tears were streaming down her face.

"Please," she begged. "Don't hurt my boy."

"I'm hoping I won't have to," Jason stated calmly, clearly unaffected by her display of emotion. "Besides, I know all about his abilities. We've been monitoring him for some time now. I know that a simple weapon," he waved the gun through the air, "won't have any impact on him."

A cold chill ran down Clark's spine. They'd been watching him for some time? What's some time? What did they know about him? He fought the rising tide of panic and bit his lip trying to keep it from trembling.

"Oh! Don't get me wrong. There is one thing, though, that we think can do something..."

Jonathan and Martha looked on nervously as Trask pulled a small lead box out of his right breast pocket and flipped the latch off the lid, unlocking it and slowly thumbing it open. A small green crystal rested inside of the black velvet interior, glowing an almost sickly green. It was the most beautifully horrifying thing Clark had ever set eyes on.

Jonathan's voice rang out across the room, sounding far away in comparison the sharp wheezes coming from his chest. "Clark!"

Clark found himself woozy and shaking as soon as the shiny box was opened. He couldn't explain it— he'd never felt this way before. It was... pain. So much pain washed over his body, causing him to be unsteady on his feet and sway dangerously.

And then, just like that, the constant throbbing disappeared. Clark slumped to his knees on a soft groan, still feeling sick and in pain, but he wasn't getting hit with more of it. It was better this way.

"Clark!" Martha's scream echoed around the house as her nine year old boy fell to the floor, barely conscious. Her precious little boy who had never been sick or hurt a day in his life, now rendered nearly lifeless at their feet and all without this man even laying a finger on him.

"You son of a—"

Jason Trask cocked the hammer of his pistol and aimed it at the furious Jonathan Kent. "Uh-uh. You don't make a move. You two," he gestured between them with the weapon as Martha wept even more bitterly, "are traitors to your country. You have been harboring a fugitive of the US Government. He is not yours to keep. Now, I can give you two options. Option A involves the two of you keeping your lives and your silence, and I walk out of here with this… alien of yours."

Clark raised his head heavily to look at his parents, tears clearly tracing the curves of his face. They wouldn't do that to him. They couldn't. He was their son, no matter where he came from. He couldn't stand the thought that this man would hurt either of his parents though. And above all that, there was the issue of the pain throbbing through his veins and the fact that he couldn't seem to muster up any of his powers at that moment. He should have acted sooner, done something to stop him while he could. Now it was too late.

"Please," Martha begged once more, barely able to fit words out of her mouth past all of her sobs. "What do you even want with him? He's just a boy—"

"Are you kidding me?! He's the proof I've needed all this time! I always knew there was an alien out there, waiting to attack us. No one believed me. I could tell something was off here in Smallville last time I was here, but no. It's just damn crazy Trask and why the hell is he still carrying on about aliens! But this— [i]he[/i] is proof! He is what we've wanted all along!"

That sort of speech didn't sound like it came from someone stable, though that was obvious enough from his behavior and the fact that he had a gun trained on them.

"You said there was a second option," Jonathan gritted through his teeth. There was no way in hell he was going to let anyone just take his son away from him.

"I did, did I?" Jason seemed to think over it for a moment before grinning. "I guess your other option would be to press your luck, me kill you both, and still escape with the creature. Like I said, your choice."

"How _dare_ you call my son a creature!" Jonathan snarled and lunged forward, reaching for the weapon.

Suddenly everything seemed to be moving in slow motion to Clark, and yet it felt like it all happened in a matter of seconds. The sharp retort of the gun being fired and missing its intended target. His mother's blood-curdling scream, his father's scuffle with the army man, the two of them grappling for the gun.

Then came the sound of the gun being fired again.

Trask fell back onto the floor a few scant feet away from Clark as Jonathan fired repeatedly into the man's chest, rapidly emptying the clip into him. Clark looked up at his father's determined expression with wide, frightened eyes.

Jonathan Kent had just killed a man.

* * *

 _Metropolis, 1993_

Clark was startled out his dark thoughts as his cell phone rang and he pulled the bulky device out of the pocket of his overcoat. He answered immediately, knowing exactly who it was. "Yes, Nigel?"

 _"Sir, you'll be pleased to know that the Daily Planet is yours for the taking."_

Clark grinned. "Excellent. When do I sign the paperwork?"

 _"It should be ready by six o'clock. If you go in and sign it as early as you can, you can beat anyone else to it and all of the paperwork and insurance information should be done within the week."_

"Perfect. Thank you, Nigel." With that, he hung up the phone and enthusiastically began to walk faster back towards his home.


	6. Misery Business

When Nigel St. John made his way up to Lex Luthor's main office Monday morning, he was caught off guard by the state it was left in. Papers were strewn about the room, scattered across desks and tables in a seemingly chaotic manner, despite the fact that Nigel knew Lex always had some sort of system in place. In fact, normally the man was quite the neat nick. He wondered what was going on for him to break out such chaos. Casually, he leafed through some of the papers closest to him, skimming the documents to see what they were about. Something to do with the contracts between LNN and LuthorCorp.

Seeing the name there surprised Nigel. In the twenty-some-odd years since Lex had taken over his deceased father's company, he had done absolutely everything he could to distance himself from the name that haunted him. Even went so far as to rebrand the entire company to "LexCorp" instead, which frankly had a better ring to it. The reasons behind the change was never made apparent to Nigel, nor to many others he assumed. The one time he had asked, Lex had so quickly rebuffed him that he dared not ask again. His exact words were to this day clearly ingrained in his mind.

 _"Nigel, you're a good man. That's why I'll give you a pass on this one. But if you ever bring up my father again, you'll be out of a job and I'll make damn sure you won't find another. All you need to know is that I was orphaned at 14 and that's that. Do we understand each other?"_

Nigel had hastily agreed, surprised at the turn in character of his boss. Lex wasn't a scary man in general— which was why he did so well at business, he was quite charming— but in that moment Nigel had seen a different side to the man, and it wasn't something he wanted to see again. It was only a few months later that he was approached by Mr. Kent with his particular job offer. It had been a surprise, but his curiosity and— to be frank— greed got the better of him and he'd readily accepted. Nigel found he'd missed the spy's life, and here was Mr. Kent, offering it back to him with quite a cushy income to boot. His personal feelings and alliances didn't matter— he had a job to do.

Clark Kent himself was another matter entirely. He couldn't even begin to analyze that man— his motives were unclear, but there was always one goal in mind— destroy Lex Luthor in every capacity and with any means possible. He didn't dare ask. Whatever information he could glean was good enough for Nigel. Unlike Lex, Mr. Kent was a cold, ruthless, cut-throat shark in everything he did. He could put on the veneer of the suave, charming businessman, but even then something just felt a little off at times. There were cracks in his armor, to be sure, but they were not easy to find. Nigel had known the man for a little over five years now, and yet the most personal detail he knew about Clark Kent was that his father died when he was a younger man.

A fact that the two men had in common, Nigel mused.

Regardless of Mr. Kent's feelings on the matter, Lex had single-handedly turned the company around and made it the conglomerate it was today. If nothing else, Lex Luthor was a quite impressive businessman.

Speaking of which, where was that man? "Sir? Mr. Luthor?"

"Just a minute, Nigel!" Lex knocked his head against the file drawer he was rummaging through and bit back a mild curse at the pain. He rubbed his scalp soothingly for a moment before pulling out the paper he needed. He grinned broadly as he read over the terms, and leapt to his feet to go share with Nigel the good news.

"Take a look at this!" He thrust the paper directly under his more-than-butler's nose with a grin as he went to fetch another small stack of papers from his desk and place them into a folder.

Nigel frowned as he looked over the words on the page. "I don't understand, sir. Why are you showing me the legal terms of your media contract with LNN?"

"Read the fourth paragraph from the bottom for me."

Nigel's quizzical expression only deepened as he read the words. "Something about the media outlet not being considered a conglomerate until it is evidenced that more than fifty percent of the competition is owned by the same company—"

"—Or that said one company owns the rights to multiple competitors in the same market. And, I checked with legal, and LNN is considered an entirely different market from the newspaper business."

Nigel's surprise showed easily on his face, a rare sight. "Newspaper, sir?"

Lex grinned as he walked up and took the paper from his hands and slipped it into the folder he held. "Nigel, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. The Daily Planet is going under. Advertisers have been dropping them left and right. So I've decided to purchase the establishment myself."

Nigel felt his mouth go dry, but tried not to let any of his fear show on his face. Mr. Kent would not be pleased if he found out that Lex had beaten him to the punch. Not at all. He swallowed. "B-But sir! If the paper's doing so poorly, then why make the purchase? Surely you can see how much of a risk that kind of investment would be."

Lex smiled patronizingly at the man. "Now Nigel, I know you know how deep my pockets are. And I'm not doing it for a return on my investment— although, I must say I'm not against the idea." he smirked before turning to walk to his desk once more. "No, I'm afraid my intentions are a bit more noble than that this time around."

It clicked in Nigel's brain what he was talking about. "Lois Lane."

The look that occupied Lex's face at the mention of her name could only be described as complete adoration. He really had it bad for that girl. "Yeah. Miss Lane. She told me at dinner on Friday that they've been worried about the Planet going under for a little while now, and I suggested to bail them out a bit. I've spent the whole weekend looking into my finances and the finer print of any contract that might get in my way. I think she'll definitely appreciate the gesture."

Nigel couldn't help but roll his eyes at that one. How could the third richest businessman in the world possibly be so naive as to believe Lois Lane had any feelings for him? Nigel had met her on many occasions, and while she was an excellent reporter, and a very beautiful woman, she was clearly not enamoured with the illustrious Lex Luthor. He wouldn't be surprised to learn if she was simply using the man this whole time, though they did seem to get along well. They were similar people, had similar interests and concerns.

But no way in hell would Lois Lane ever marry Lex Luthor.

It was just a pity that his boss couldn't see that.

Lex turned back around with a smile and offered the file to Nigel. "Here. Would you mind making the appropriate phone calls to get started on this? I already filled out most of the legal paperwork, besides the actual purchasing agreement. If I could get a copy of that sooner than later, that'd be great."

Nigel realized the ball was in his court and he smiled. "Of course. How soon would you like this done by?"

"Tonight, if possible."

The look in Lex's eyes was so eager and hopeful that it practically took ten years off his face. He almost hated having to do this to him, lying to his face. But he had a job to do, and he was being generously paid to do it. So he smiled and nodded. "Of course. I'll get right on that."

Lex dismissed him happily, and Nigel walked briskly out of his office and towards the stairwell. Once inside and a few floors down, Nigel pulled out his cell and made a call to the real Boss.

* * *

Clark's phone rang and he excused himself from the blonde secretary's side with a charming grin. She giggled and waved him off. Clark managed to keep from rolling his eyes until after he had turned away. "Hello?"

 _"Sir, we have a problem."_

Clark sighed. There was always a problem. "What now?"

 _"It's Mr. Luthor. Somehow, he knows the Daily Planet is going under and he wants to breathe new life into it. He's already got me starting on the paperwork and wants me to call the owners to make them an offer."_

Clark clenched his jaw and ran a hand through his hair. "Let me guess— Lois?" Nigel's lack of response confirmed the fact for him. He sighed. "All right. Do you know his number?"

 _"It says here that Lex is prepared to offer $1.5 million to Mr. Edge, but if he should demand to go higher, he made it clear he is willing to offer $2.5 million easily."_

Clark felt a muscle in his jaw twitch in irritation. Damn. He'd been hoping to offer $2 mil flat. He breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself. It was no problem. He could go higher— he'd anticipated that he might need to, but he didn't think it would be because of Lex Luthor. Finally, he released his breath that he'd been holding and spoke in a quiet tone. "Just... hold off on your call for a little while. Stall. I'm going into this meeting with Mr. Edge in a few moments. Let me try for the contract, then you can do your thing. Tell _him_ that it was simply too late and he had already been beaten to the punch for it. Then, even if he calls himself, he'll know it's true and you're not at fault. Understand?"

 _"Perfectly, sir."_

"Good."

Clark immediately hung up the phone and fixed a smile on to his face before returning to follow the secretary in. "Sorry for the interruption. Someone's got to keep the company running."

She giggled again, and the sound grated on his ears. "No problem, Mr. Kent. Mr. Edge will see you now."

She led him through the mahogany double doors into the office of one Morgan Edge, who stood from his plush chair to greet him. He spoke through the cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "The one and only Mr. Clark Kent! It's quite an honor to meet you, sir!"

Clark kept up his smile in spite of the man's somewhat greasy handshake. "The pleasure is all mine, I can assure you."

The short man guffawed, and Clark could not keep from wrinkling his nose slightly in distaste, before ultimately returning to his smooth expression. Morgan Edge was about as skeevy as they came. He was a low man on the totem pole who thought he could play with the big dogs— with all his inherited money. He probably spent more on his small-time parties and drugs than he ever put into the Planet— a testament to the Daily Planet's ability to stand on its own two feet. Hell, if it weren't for the fact that Clark himself had been messing with their numbers and advertisers, he was certain the business would continue to do very well for itself. A good sign for his investment, if nothing else.

"Please, please— have a seat. Relax." He puttered around to the other side of his desk as Clark sat and pulled out a second cigar to offer to his guest. "Cigar?"

Clark declined. "I never smoke before a contract is drawn up. I might take up your offer later, if all goes well."

Edge laughed loudly again, before realizing the man before him was dead serious. He quickly clamped it down and swallowed, putting out his own smoke. "So, uh, Mr. Kent. Let's get down to business, shall we? What exactly is it that you're here for?"

Clark did not hesitate with his answer. "I'm not going to beat around the bush, Mr. Edge. I'm here to purchase the Daily Planet from you. I know it's in trouble, I know your advertisers are dropping like flies. Circulation has been at a low— nothing's been going right for you there. I have deep pockets, I'm looking to establish more of a public presence, and frankly, I think I could do a better job running it."

The owner laughed nervously and tugged at his collar. "Wha-what makes you think all that?"

"Because I know business, Mr. Edge," Clark leaned slightly forward, using his height and build to slightly intimidate the smaller man across the desk from him. "I may not know everything there is to know about newspapers, but I know enough about how to stay out of the media in order to figure out what ends up in it. I'm a businessman. I know that for everything to start slipping through the cracks like this with your hands on it is bad news. I respect the Daily Planet. Letting it fail is not an option, and in spite of your seeming incompetence, you know that if you don't sell now, you won't get a cent for it. You'll lose money on it. And you have to be a smarter man than that."

The look on Morgan Edge's face was a mixture of offense and fear. He looked ready to speak when Clark jumped in again.

"Let me just finish. Now, I know that isn't what you want. It's not what I want either. All I want is to make a good, solid purchase that's not undermined by the fact that it almost went under. And all you want is to get out of it with some money. I think I'm prepared to make an offer that would suit us both."

The outrage on the man's face was slowly replaced with curiosity and a sort of hesitance. "What sort of offer?"

"Three point five," Clark spoke coolly, leaning back in his seat in a casual manner— or as casual as was possible when one was talking in millions.

He looked on as the number seemed to sink in with the current Daily Planet owner. It was quite a large chunk of change, but he knew it was still a low-ball offer. He was prepared to go up, if he had to, but Clark knew he controlled the game here. He just needed the paperwork all done and ready to go.

He _refused_ to lose out to Luthor on this.

Morgan suddenly felt weary and defeated. He looked up at Clark, who gave him a quick smile but seemed to be waiting patiently. "I can't possibly accept less than four."

Clark clicked his tongue. "You are aware that my offer is the best you are going to get? I have it on good authority that whatever offer might come your way after mine is not going to be as good."

"Mr. Kent— I'm already taking on a loss. Four million is my number, and that's final."

Clark stonily stared Morgan down and the man squirmed in his seat. He knew he would break and take his offer as-is if he just held out long enough. But he wasn't there to make an enemy today. So finally, deciding, Clark grinned and outstretched his hand. "Four it is then. Draw me up the paperwork and I'll have it signed here and now. I'd like this deal over with as quickly as possible."

Almost disbelieving, Morgan Edge shook the elusive Clark Kent's hand loosely. "Thank you, sir. I'll get legal on it right away, if you wouldn't mind waiting a little?"

Clark threw his hands up. "Don't mind me. I've got to make a few phone calls myself. I'll be back around one this afternoon?"

"Sounds perfect," Edge smiled a fake smile, eyes growing wide at the prospect of a deadline upon him.

"Swell. I'll see you then."

* * *

Lex pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. It was a rare occasion when Nigel St. John got under his skin so badly, but today was definitely one of those days. He didn't think he could handle another thing going wrong.

"Sir?" Nigel's voice broke the silence that had descended upon the room after he broke the news in the first place.

Lex sighed heavily before speaking. "How? How could someone have bought it already?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but as soon as I called the secretary informed me that the new owner was signing over the paperwork at that exact moment. I even asked to speak with Mr. Edge himself— but he was unavailable."

"How could he be unavailable?" Lex cried out, launching from his seat to pace back and forth across the room. "He owns the place! When someone with a name like Lex Luthor calls, you don't just let the secretary get it!"

"Apparently, he was doing, ah, paperwork as well."

Lex bit his tongue to keep any further angry words from escaping his mouth. He hated himself when he got angry like this— like his father. Lex had done his best throughout his whole life to do the opposite of what Lionel Luthor would have done, but some things were just hereditary. Overreacting in stressful situations had to be one of them. Fortunately, he managed to control himself ninety percent of the time. Lex took a few calming breaths before asking another question. "Who bought it? For how much?"

Nigel hesitated to answer a moment to collect himself. "I don't know what the total was, but I know when I offered our numbers up, they practically laughed me off the phone line."

That irked him. Lex felt his right eye start to twitch and brought his fingers up to press gently against his lower eyelid. It was a quirk he'd had ever since he was a kid, probably from the trauma of his father's drinking problems and abuse. He couldn't remember quite when it started, but every time it started up again it was an irritating reminder of the past. He pressed his lips together in a tight line. "Who was it, Nigel?"

He hesitated again and Lex had to fight to keep his blood pressure down. "A Mr. Clark Kent, sir."

Lex thought about that name long and hard for a while. He knew it, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out how. "And who is this Mr. Kent?"

"You've heard of a company called CK Enterprises?"

Lex froze. They were LexCorp's biggest competition— owned about a third of Metropolis real estate, running several large companies and subsidiaries, always seeming just a step or two behind.

Apparently they weren't so behind anymore.

So that must have been where he knew the name Clark Kent. Huh. Strange. He hadn't thought so, but then again—

"Wait a minute, Nigel. This, uh, CK guy. I thought he liked to stay out of the spotlight. Nobody's ever even gotten a good glimpse of him besides his glasses. You're sure _this_ is the same guy?"

Nigel shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Who else could afford to pretend to be someone like Clark Kent?"

Lex bit his lip and returned to his earlier pacing. What did Clark Kent want with the Daily Planet? It did little for him— besides, if he wanted to stay out of the media so badly, buying a media outlet was not step number one. Perhaps he thought he could control it some? Personally, Lex didn't understand the move.

Unless he was sick of the anonymity.

Lex considered it, before quickly disregarding it. No, if the recluse of a billionaire decided to come out hiding, it was not just on a whim. There was something more he wanted to accomplish with this reveal. Men like them didn't just do things without having some sort of motive.

"Sir, if I may, isn't this still good news? I thought the goal was to keep the Daily Planet in business for Miss Lane?"

Nigel's statement gave him pause. Was her happiness his only motive? No, he supposed not. He wanted the chance to impress her, come storming into the bullpen and announcing his newest acquisition— like a knight in shining armor, coming to her rescue. Of course, he'd also get to spend more time with her in this period of transition. That was another plus.

But those were things he couldn't acknowledge, least of which to Nigel. So instead Lex smiled and nodded. "You're right. I'm just happy that they stay in business for her. She'd go crazy if she didn't have the Planet." He felt his eye start twitching again and quickly dismissed him. "That'll be all, Nigel, thank you for all your work on this one."

"Of course, sir," Nigel nodded and made his exit.

Once he left, Lex slumped down into his chair and pressed two fingers against his eye socket once again. He then pushed a button that called for Asabi. The man entered almost instantaneously. "Asabi, I think it's time for my tea. And maybe a banana too, for today."

Asabi inclined his head, and returned quickly with the requested items. "Stressful day today, sir?"

Lex nodded as he stirred his ginger honey tea gently. "Exceptionally so, Asabi. And I have a bad feeling that's not going to change any time soon."


	7. Collide

_Smallville, 1975_

Clark sat there numbly, staring at the rather large red puddle pooling on the floor before him. His dad was currently tending to his mother— who was having a nervous breakdown of some sort, and Clark would prefer not to watch her fall apart before him. Oddly, the dead man was a more reassuring figure.

Cautiously, tentatively, he reached out his arm, just to see—

"Clark! Get away from there!"

His father's voice did little to break his reverie, until Jonathan stormed over and had to physically drag the boy away by his wrist. He shouted in pain at his father's strong grip, surprising himself as much as his father. He could feel pain, Clark marveled at himself. It was a mild pain, more of an irritation, but it was a new sensation regardless.

"Clark."

He wondered if he could bleed.

"Clark! I need you to listen very carefully to me. Go wash your hands, clean up, and then I want you to bring me a large, empty feed bag and a bucket and a mop. Can you do that for me?"

Clark finally was able to tear his eyes from the dead man long enough to look into his father's eyes. They were unlike anything Clark ever remembered seeing them as before. Fear, panic and an odd sense of calm resided in them. Jonathan was determined to stay in control. Clark mutely nodded his agreement before Jonathan pulled him in for a quick hug and kissed his head. "That's my boy."

He went off to do as asked, only to stop at the top of the stairs and turn back around to watch his father. His gaze drifted back to Jason— and to the blood, a lot of it— as Jonathan stood back up fully and went over to his mom, who was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably still. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, trying to still her convulsing form. "Martha. Martha. Please, Martha, you have to listen to me. You have to quit crying and be quiet, okay? Go on upstairs or something, I can handle this."

She looked up at her husband and looked blindly at the blood spatter on his clothes and the small amount he had on his hands. Clark looked down at his own hands to find them curiously clean, but somehow it didn't feel like it. His shirt was another matter entirely.

Jonathan exploded, drawing Clark's attention again as he threw his hands up in the air. "I don't know what you want from me, Martha! I didn't want to hurt him, but he— that bastard— he hurt our son! Would only keep hurting him! And what then, huh Martha? We'd just, let him walk away with our boy in his arms? No way on earth would I ever let anyone do that! He is the only thing important to me in my life, more than my life. You do for family, Martha!"

Her sobs were getting worse. Jonathan knelt down and shook her shoulders. "Martha! Listen—"

 _"Don't touch me!"_ she finally broke through the sobs enough to scream at him and she swatted his hands away, leaning as far away from him as possible. "Don't you _dare_ touch me, Jonathan Kent! You just _killed_ a man! You— you're a— how are you not more upset about this?!"

His father looked pained at her words and his shoulders slumped. "Martha—"

"Don't you realize what you've _done_?!"

That riled him up again. "What I've done? Martha Clark Kent, that man would have killed us both to get what he wanted! It was self-defense!"

 _"By the tenth bullet, it's not self-defense anymore!"_

Jonathan swore and wiped his face on his sleeve. "What do you want me to say?! I screwed up? Fine! I screwed up! But I'm not going to apologize for it! I did my job as a father and protected my son no matter the cost!"

Martha only wept bitterly in response. His father almost ran a hand through his rapidly thinning hair before he caught himself, staring at the blood on his own hands. Reeling, he took a few steps back and looked down at himself. He was a bloody mess. He quickly glanced up at his wife and saw her crying. "What have I done?" he whispered, clutching at his head desperately.

A loud creak sounded beneath Clark's feet and he held his breath, peering through the railing at his dad with fear in his eyes. Jonathan's gaze snapped over to the staircase and locked on his own wide, brown eyes. Clark held his breath nervously. Jonathan stood upright and squared his jaw. "Clark," he called out softly, and he flinched. A glance of pain struck across his father's face. "It's okay, son," he soothed, "It'll all be okay. There's nothing to be scared of. Come down here and let me look at you."

Somewhat reassured, Clark hesitantly and very quietly made his way back down the staircase to his father's side. Jonathan knelt to his level and looked into his eyes. "Are you okay, son? Are you hurt anywhere?"

Clark shook his head mutely. He hurt everywhere— it was a strange, tingling sensation— but the ache was fading fast and he was certain that if he said anything his dad would just make a bigger deal out of it. Clark didn't want or need his father to worry about him right now.

Jonathan let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Thank goodness," he whispered. His eyelids fluttered open and he still saw the pain and confusion in his son's eyes. "Listen to me, Clark. This is very important, and I need you to do exactly as I say, understand?"

Clark nodded vigorously, not wanting to disappoint.

"There's nothing I love more, nothing more important to me in the whole entire world, than you. Now I didn't mean to kill that man. But he was a very, very bad man and he was going to hurt you. And that's not okay. You're my son, and I'll never let anything bad happen to you. But I need you to promise me a few things, in case anything ever happens to me, okay?"

Clark looked between his father and the man lying dead on the floor for a few moments before conceding with a nod.

"Firstly, promise me, that if anything happens to me, you won't tell anyone about your powers. That is most important. And secondly, you need to remember that no matter what, you always do whatever you have to in order to protect yourself, got it?"

Clark flinched at his father's words, pulled back slightly. Jonathan gripped his shoulders firmly and stared at his son dead on. "Promise me," he reiterated in a firm tone.

Clark nodded his head vigorously, tears blinding his eyes. "I-I promise."

Jonathan sighed in relief and shut his eyes briefly. "Good. Because if... if something does happen to me... you'll be the man of the house, okay? You're gonna be in charge. You need to tell me you'll take care of everything. You need to tell me that you will always, _always_ do whatever you can to take care of yourself. Promise me?" Clark sniffed loudly and Jonathan firmly brushed the tears off of his son's face with the pads of his thumbs, only to wince with regret upon seeing the track of blood he left behind. "Promise me, Clark."

"Yes, Dad. I promise."

Jonathan pulled Clark in close to his chest and pressed a hard kiss to the top of his head. Clark shut his eyes and clutched at his father tightly for several long moments. He breathed him in, heard his father doing the same, relishing every second they had.

Slowly, Jonathan pulled back and looked his son straight in the eye, watching as Clark felt the scared tears stream down his cheeks. His dad cleared his throat before speaking. "Now go upstairs, just... clean up, try to get some rest. I'll take care of everything, okay? I don't want you to see any of this."

Clark nodded and turned toward the stairs, slower than normal still, and Jonathan turned back to the man lying on the floor with a sigh.

"What did I do?" he murmured softly, just barely reaching Clark's ears. Clark glanced back once more at his sobbing mess of a mother, and again to his father, watching as he steeled himself and all the remorse fled from his features. Clark shook his head as if to clear it, ignoring the pounding headache, and raced up the steps to his room.

* * *

 _Metropolis, 1993_

"Lois!"

Lois sat up ramrod straight, a piece of paper stuck to her cheek from where it was pressed against the countertop. Confused, she looked around her surroundings, trying to sort out why she had seemingly fallen asleep on her kitchen countertop. Squinting with bleary eyes at the words on the pages in front of her, she remembered— CK Enterprises. Her night had been filled with research and reading after gathering as much information as she could from the Daily Planet Archives and— she glanced at the mostly empty carton of cigarettes— more than a little smoking. She supposed she was making up for lost time with her non-smoking stint. A brief wave a regret washed over her— she had almost made it another week. But feeling guilty only made her crave it more, and so the vicious cycle began. Peeling the paper from her face, Lois finally reached out for the pack of cigarettes, only to have her hand swatted away by some unknown source. She scowled bitterly and looked up to find her sister smiling down at her, all too cheerful for the morning.

"Morning, sis!" Lucy chirped happily, stealing away the pack and hiding it behind the spice rack once again. "Coffee?"

She grunted a response, which Lucy took as a yes and poured a second mug. A caffeinated Lois was always a happier Lois.

It took a few moments of warm silence, indulging in her beverage, before Lois was finally able to speak. "Why'd you take my cigs?"

Lucy raised an eyebrow at her older sister. "Uh, because it's already seven-thirty and you need to get ready for work? It's Tuesday? You don't have time to—"

Lois' eyes widened dramatically as she looked at the digital clock on her stove and jumped out of her seat. "Crap! Lucy! Why didn't you—"

"I did wake you, if you remember!" Lucy called out after Lois with an all-too-mirthful tone, and Lois raced into her bedroom and slammed the door to get changed.

* * *

Lois rode the elevator down from the rooftop where she had taken her brief morning smoke break. She hoped she didn't smell like it. She knew that some people in the bullpen probably suspected that she smoked, but she liked to think she was more secretive and mysterious than that.

 _Smokers always think they don't smell like smoke, Lois._

She pursed her lips at the voice that sounded suspiciously like her little sister in her head, tossing a mental _"Whatever, Luce"_ back at her.

When the elevator dinged, she strode briskly off, all confidence and attitude. No one could mess with Mad Dog Lane on the prowl. When she started going undercover at the Metro Club, everyone thought she was just crazy— until she learned that Johnny Taylor was involved with the up and coming Toasters gang just the other night. Mysteriously, after her investigation and bust, the Toasters all disappeared off the face of the earth. But, she figured, if she had just been outed for arson, she'd be in the wind too. It was the way of the criminal.

Her article went to print yesterday, was yet another major success. Toni Taylor even called and thanked her for getting her out from under her brother's thumb— a weird thing, considering she had just put the woman's brother in jail, but she supposed she was probably treated badly by him. It didn't hurt that it meant she got control of the Metro Club.

Unfortunately for Lois, though, that story did not transform her life. Neither did any of the others. So she sat down at her desk, spinning her wheels until her next story hit, waiting with baited breath for Perry to come and beg her to take on some story or another.

James slid past her desk and slipped a paper in front of her casually before continuing on his path. Lois frowned as she looked it over quickly. "Olsen! What the hell is this for?"

He turned on his heel and continued to walk backwards. "Chief wants you on it asap. Told me to drop it by your desk." He smoothly turned back around, not wanting to face the wrath of Lois Lane.

She read over the assignment once again and unconsciously began gritting her teeth. Suddenly taken over by her emotions, she crumpled the paper in her tight grip and shot to her feet, storming over to Perry White's office in a whirlwind force. Not even caring that the door was closed and her boss appeared to be in a meeting when she came storming through it.

She jumped straight in. "Chief, we need to talk. I just bagged a huge story that I spent weeks looking into, going deep undercover for, and you hand me this... this puff piece?! That's absurd!"

Perry glanced sideways at his guest, whose back had straightened considerably at the intrusion of the conversation. "Uh, Lois? Can't you see I'm in the middle of something here?"

Lois suddenly realized that her boss was indeed in the middle of something as she noted the familiar man starting to stand up respectfully out of his chair. "Oh," she said as she racked her brain for how she might know this man. She frowned deeply, brow furrowed in thought as she still came up empty. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

The bespectacled man looked slightly amused. "I, uh, believe we met at that nightclub a few weeks ago. You're that hooker I turned down, right? Lola, wasn't it?" He outstretched his hand, a mischievous smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Lois was flustered and could feel her embarrassment coloring her cheeks. She glanced at Perry furtively, wishing he hadn't heard that comment, but the color in his own face proved that he had. To cover for her blunder, she stepped up closer to stranger and ignored his greeting, fuming inside and not doing a very good job covering it up. "Oh, I remember. First of all, for your information, I am not a hooker. I wasn't even pretending to be one. That was _your_ misinterpretation. And second of all, just what brings you here to my real place of work? You some kind of creepy stalker or something? Why are you talking to my boss? Perry, I don't like this."

"Lois, I, uh, I don't think—"

"It's all right, Mr. White," the handsome stranger spoke smoothly. "I don't offend easily. I'll let you get back to your work and I'll go make the announcement."

He made his exit from the room, giving a slight nod to Lois on the way out to the bullpen. Curious, Lois followed him, flanked by her boss. "What does he mean, make an announcement? Who does he think he is?"

Perry opened his mouth to respond, but was beaten to the punch.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, reporters of the Daily Planet," Clark started out in a booming voice, gathering everyone's stares. "Can I have your attention, please? Thank you."

His smile was intoxicating, Lois couldn't help but think. She certainly remembered him from the bar now. She bit her tongue to keep from asking any more foolish questions and just wait for him to explain himself.

"First off, I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Clark Kent. Many of you may recognize that name, some may not. Let me put your minds at ease: yes, I am the Clark Kent of CK Enterprises."

Murmuring suddenly erupted from the bullpen, and Lois felt herself going pale at his words. Clark Kent? The one whose company she had been looking into the last four days? Crap, what had she done?

"Now I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is, the Daily Planet has not been doing so well recently. Circulation has been down, advertisers dropping, the whole nine yards. The good news is, I have agreed to purchase the Daily Planet. Meaning I am the new owner, and I hope to help your newspaper thrive continuously the way it was meant to all along."

A series of cheers and claps sounded throughout the bullpen, and Lois couldn't help but be drawn into it. She cast a sidelong glance at Perry. They were saved. She hadn't seen him so happy in years.

Then Lois turned her attention back to their so-called savior, this time with new eyes. No longer the handsome, slightly awkward or creepy stranger. He had a name, he was a figurehead, and he just had a very real impact on her life.

And suddenly, she felt she was in a lot more danger having Clark Kent around than she was before he'd miraculously decided to save the Daily Planet.


	8. Dangerous

Lois stood off to the side, observing carefully as several people introduced themselves to him and expressed their gratitude for his preemptive actions. She bit her nail nervously as she examined him closer. Despite all her efforts to find something wrong with him, something why she shouldn't be able to trust him, nothing obvious came up. He was certainly a good looking man, that she knew from the beginning. But he seemed kind and genuine with everyone he spoke to. She wondered whether her sense of distrust was coming from the fact that she had met him previously and he hadn't told her who he was or whether it was simply because she hadn't figured it out earlier.

Exasperated, Lois finally decided to just confront the man and get it over with. She waited until the crowd around him had mostly dissipated and stalked right up to him without hesitation. He turned and smiled at her, extending his hand genially. "Miss Lane—"

Lois folded her arms across her chest and cast a withering glance at his outstretched hand. Awkwardly, he withdrew it, thrown off by her behavior. Everyone else seemed happy— ecstatic, even— to meet the man behind the name. Clark cleared his throat and attempted conversation once more. "I'm surprised by you. Your undercover work at the Metro Club was remarkable. I had no idea it was _the_ Lois Lane I was talking to," he spoke warmly, and he couldn't help but glance down at her body before raising his eyes back up to meet hers. Lois suppressed her shiver. "And that piece on Johnny Taylor working with the Toasters— thank you for that."

Lois felt slightly put off by his words, unsure as to whether she should be offended by his wandering gaze or flattered that he read her piece. "Why thank you?"

He looked at her a bit quizzically. "Don't you know? I own the building for the Metro Club. The Taylors have always been in charge of running the place, but they pay me rent. Johnny has been trying to threaten me, get me out of his business. When you released your article? Couldn't have been any better timed."

Lois didn't know quite what to say. She hadn't known that tidbit of information, and it made her uneasy that she had been so clueless.

"Besides," Clark continued, an unreadable look in his eyes. "It's better off being run by Toni. She's always... had a much more level head on her shoulders than her brother."

They stood in a semi-awkward silence for a few moments. The newsroom buzz had returned to its usual low roar, and everyone had for the most part returned to their business. Lois shifted on her feet. "So. You're, what, some kind of millionaire, huh?"

Clark looked at his feet in false humility. "Yeah, something like that."

She frowned at him in confusion. "What do you mean, something like that? You just bought a major Metropolitan newspaper and you certainly don't seem any worse for the wear! You're one of the richest men in the country, you—"

"It's with a 'b,' Miss Lane," he corrected quickly before she could rant on any longer.

Lois looked abashed at that, all the wind taken from her sails. "Oh. Billionaire. Right." She visibly decompressed and seemed to shrink back for a moment, before something else struck her and she wound herself up again. "Hey! If you're so rich, then you owe me seven bucks for that drink, buster!"

Clark chuckled. "Don't worry. They didn't put it on your tab. I paid for it myself. Besides, I own the place, remember?"

She glared at him suspiciously. "I thought you just owned the building."

"And their liquor license."

She stared him down for a few moments more before finally turning away. "Well, you didn't have to lie to me about it all."

Something flashed in his eyes, something dark and dangerous that made Lois want to take two steps back. If she were anyone other than Mad Dog Lane, she might have even. But then it disappeared as he smirked. "I never lied to you."

"Lying by omission is still technically a lie," she pointed out stubbornly.

"Well, I wasn't about to bare all to some two-bit whore, you know?" he spat back.

Lois was slightly taken aback, but she bit down on her tongue to keep from lashing out at him. She knew how she had presented herself while undercover, she could hardly be offended. She spoke through tightly clenched teeth. "Was any of that even true?"

Ah. There it was. His face briefly looked as though she'd punched him in the gut. But as quickly as it had come, it passed again, and he steeled once more. With a polite upturn of the lips, he responded, "Of course it was true. I wouldn't lie about that."

Lois felt guilty now, remembering his admission about his parents, and she looked abashed to her toes. "Oh."

Clark shook his head with a condescending smile. "You know, if you're so worried about people lying to you, you might want to to look a little closer to home."

That got Lois' attention. She snapped her gaze up only to find him already walking away from her. "Hey! Where do you think you're going? What's that supposed to mean?" She started to storm after him but Perry caught her arm.

"Woah there! Hold your horses, Lois. I'm sure Mr. Kent hasn't done anything to warrant such an outburst, right?"

Lois glared at her boss for a moment before turning her gaze to follow the new owner of the Daily Planet. He stopped and smirked at her, hearing Perry White's reprimand, and turned on his heel to keep walking.

She made a snap decision and raised her voice loud enough to get his attention. "You know, Perry, just because he owns the Planet now doesn't mean I'm going to walk on eggshells around him. I'm going to keep doing my job the way I've always done it and I don't give a damn what Mr. Kent does or doesn't think!"

The newsroom quieted down at her outburst and Perry's mouth fell open in shock. "Lois!" he hissed. "You don't mean that!"

Sometimes Lois hated how nervous her boss was all the time. "I do too," she insisted petulantly.

"Miss Lane?"

Lois felt her heartbeat speed up at the sound of his voice calling her name. She turned back to face him as he casually leaned over the railing looking over the bullpen. She swallowed thickly but refused to back down, jutting out her chin stubbornly. "Yes?"

Suddenly, he grinned— this megawatt smile that made her knees almost weak. "I wouldn't expect anything less." And with that, Kent turned on his heel again and left.

Lois released a breath that she didn't know she was holding. Perry gave her a dubious glance that seemed to serve more as a warning than a reprimand. Ever since Jerry started serving his dime in prison he'd gone soft, concerned that his harshness had driven his son to his life of crime. Lois sighed. She loved him to death, and in many ways she thought of him as a surrogate father, but she did wish he would stand up for himself more.

Kent, though... he was interesting. She wasn't quite sure what to think about him yet. He had an edge to him— something a little more than just the usual I-need-my-morning-coffee kind of angry. It was something almost dangerous. And yet— he had a sense of humor. He seemed like a good enough person. And to top it off— he was achingly good-looking. That smile— oh— it did things to her. Made her think thoughts that a woman in a happily committed relationship should not be thinking. He was going to be trouble, she knew that already. She wasn't quite sure why or how she knew it, but she did.

Clark Kent making this sudden appearance into her life changed the whole ballgame. What did this mean about Lex's attempt to buy the Planet? What did it mean for her relationship with him? What about her work? Lois shivered. She felt as though they were just on the cusp of something— something big, something intangible. She didn't know what, or why— but it was her gut instinct, and Lois Lane always trusted her gut. Regardless of what trouble it brought her.

One thing was for sure, things were definitely about to change.


	9. Happy Together

Lex Luthor sat in his desk chair, bored of paperwork. He was supposed to be going over the finalized plans for this year's White Orchid Annual Ball. There were still so many things to do, details to be attended to, not to mention all of the additional planning that went into the upcoming Prometheus launch that he planned on announcing at the party. That was a whole other nightmare of paperwork and negotiations.

But instead, he found himself taking trips down memory lane.

Lex sighed. He always got this way, around this time of year. Once he got the Ball rolling, he was fine. Relatively speaking. But planning for it— for some little party for the who's who of Metropolis— instead of doing anything else? He sighed. It was torture. He should be planning a trip for himself, a visit to the cemetery— heck, in a perfect world, he should've been planning a birthday party.

Lex let that fact wash over him as he ruminated some more. How old would he have been this year? Twenty-three, he decided upon doing the calculations. Twenty-three years old. Unbelievable. It seemed like a lifetime ago— it _was_ a lifetime ago, he realized with a shock. That his son could have grown up, gone through college, and be well-nigh on his own at this point— well, it made his head dizzy. Lex couldn't even picture it— in his mind, he was still and would forever be the same four and a half year old boy he had once been, and not a day older.

His heart constricted with pain. Eighteen years ago almost since he'd lost his son. Little Jaxon.

Lex shook his head, trying to shake himself out of it. Maybe he wouldn't even be around for his birthday this year. After all, if he was turning twenty-three, perhaps his son would be off on his own, traveling the world, with his friends— maybe with a family of his own now. He had gotten Arianna pregnant when he was just twenty himself. And while he knew that was quite a young age, he also knew he wouldn't trade any of it— he had gotten a son for those precious few years, and it had been worth it. Despite all the pain and agony resulting from his loss.

He shook his head once again. He had to stop thinking about it and just power through. That always worked before. No more thoughts about what they had been about to do on their trip, whether they were enjoying their time in Australia or not. No more memories of what the car had looked like afterwards, having been crushed between a jackknifing semi and an SUV in what had to have been the most horrifying accident he'd ever seen. Not to mention the memories of _them_...

Instantly he recoiled and leaned back in his chair, the images flashing through his mind faster than a speeding bullet. _No,_ he shook his head to clear his thoughts. _Now's not the time to think about that, Lex. The ball._

He turned back to the papers on his desk. Right. Next Friday night. He had too much to do and not enough time to do it. Besides, this year wouldn't be any harder than any other. Especially not any harder than that first year. God, was that terrible. Traveling across the country, taking stock of all of his holdings and business nationwide, getting involved in a homicide case in the middle of nowhere and getting stuck testifying at the murder trial... It was a nightmare— a fuzzy nightmare that he could barely remember the details of because he was so underwater at the time. All he knew were the feelings he'd been drowning in over the loss of his only son.

No, the White Orchid Ball had been the perfect way to memorialize the weekend of his son's birthday. White orchids were Arianna's favorite flowers; she always kept them in the house. Jaxon would always tear off the petals and hide them in different places. Lex smiled and shook his head at the thought of finding the petals in his coat pocket one warm afternoon all those years ago. They were fresh even.

So every year, he'd dress up and play the nice host and stuff the place to the brim with orchids and hope that no one noticed how fake he was being. And every year, it seemed to go well. This year, he had Lois to attend with him. The thought alone lifted his spirits. She had that sort of effect on him. He smiled. He wished that she would see sense and marry him already. They were so good together, they just made sense. He knew she wasn't the lovey-dovey type, and in most circumstances, neither was he. But when it came to Lois Lane, Lex simply couldn't help himself.

She was different. She knew everything about him— his father's abusiveness, his son's death, his spiral into depression and the terrible years that followed... And yet, somehow, she still didn't care, wasn't bothered by any of it. Nor was she put off by his money or his fame. She was grounded in reality, and balanced him out incredibly well. Lois Lane was an incredible creature.

Which reminded him. Lex glanced back down at the papers sitting before him— primarily the guest list. He should throw some tickets to the Ball her way. The Daily Planet always had a presence at the event, but he was feeling generous and since Lois would already be there, he supposed he could forward a few to spare to Perry White and the staff of his choice.

And Clark Kent.

Lex felt his teeth grind a little at seeing the name on the list. He had already made the list of pre-sold tickets. Which was fine— the man could spend a little of his own damn money for a charity event. He wasn't about to throw him a free ticket, not right after he stole the Daily Planet out from under him.

Still, Lex found himself exceedingly curious about Clark Kent. How did someone so wealthy and powerful remain out of sight for so long? If he wasn't so jealous of him, Lex would ask the man himself. This was a strange move for him. It didn't make sense that he would give up all of his anonymity for a simple newspaper. There had to be something bigger going on here.

The phone on his desk rang, jolting Lex from his thoughts as he smoothly picked it up. "Yes?"

 _"Hey."_

Just the sound of Lois Lane's smooth voice drifting over the phone lines made the knot that had been in his shoulders loosen. "Lois, darling! How are you?"

She paused for a few moments. _"Fine. A lot's been going on. I was just... I was calling to talk to you. About our little— you know."_

Lex was just relieved to hear from her. It had been a couple of days since they'd spoken. "Our disagreement?" He filled in for her.

 _"Lex,"_ he could hear the exasperation in her voice already. _"I don't want to rehash it—"_

"Say no more, my dear. It's forgotten. I'm just glad to hear from you."

 _"Yeah, well... I was hoping we could meet for dinner tonight."_

"Sure. I can get us reservations somewhere. What do you feel like?"

 _"Italian might be nice,"_ she spoke slowly. _"And then we can come back to my place for dessert, maybe? Lucy's not going to be there tonight."_

Lex grinned. "Now, Lois. You're not trying to poison me, are you? Because if so, I'll have you know that I wouldn't dare try anything you make for me anyways—"

 _"Lex! No!"_ She pretended to be outraged, but he could hear her grin even through the phone. _"And I'll have you know that if there's one thing I_ can _cook, it's chocolate desserts."_

"In that case, I'm afraid I must try them after all. You know how tempting your chocolate souffle is to me."

Lois' light laughter was a delight to his ears, and it bolstered his spirits. They were going to be okay still. It was just a fight, not an end to their relationship.

 _"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of a different sort of dessert..."_

Her suggestive tone made his blood go hot. "By all means, I'll make the dinner reservations. But fair warning, I'm going to want a lot of dessert."

 _"Lex! I'm at work still!"_

He laughed, leaning back into his chair. "How has your day been going, by the way?"

 _"It's been... strange. I don't know what to think of it. You know how I told you about the Planet maybe going under? The new owner came in today."_

Just as quickly as Lois had brought his spirits up, they crashed back down again. Lex straightened in his chair. "Oh, really? Who is it?"

 _"Clark Kent? From CK Enterprises."_

"Well, that's good. That the Planet is saved, I mean," Lex spouted dutifully, keeping as much malice as he could out of his voice.

 _"Yeah... It's just weird. He came out of hiding, for this? A newspaper? Don't you think that's strange?"_

"It is strange," Lex agreed. He was happy to hear her mind wandering down the same path as his, but he didn't know how much longer he could stay on the topic. Thankfully, he didn't have to worry about it.

 _"Anyway, I've got to get back to work, and I'm sure you've got to get back to procrastinating about that Ball of yours—"_

"I was not!"

Lois laughed. _"I'll let you go. Bye."_

"I'll pick you up at seven for dinner."

Lois agreed, then hung up. Lex smiled as he put down his own receiver. She was right; he was procrastinating. Taking a deep breath, Lex settled in his seat and got down to business, pushing all thoughts of the elusive Clark Kent out of his mind.


	10. Round and Round

It was the following Wednesday when Clark finally walked back into the Daily Planet. He'd managed to make himself wait a couple of days, in spite of how giddy it made him just to be there. It helped that the transition period was taking a bit of time, what with all the legal documents and agreements he had to sign. But still, a thrill of anticipation ran down his spine. His plan was finally going into action— every day meant he was one day closer to achieving success. To getting revenge.

As the elevator dinged and the doors parted before him, he took in the surroundings of the bullpen with an air of satisfaction. It was so vibrant and full of life, not really like anywhere he'd ever been before. Maybe in another life— one where his father hadn't killed an army man and hadn't been caught and sent to prison, or even killed there— maybe then he would have liked to work in a place like this. News was a fast-paced business, always chasing another story, finding evidence, going on stakeouts— the sort of things he liked to do anyways, in his spare time. But it was a double-edged sword, he knew— which was why he worked so hard to stay out of the news business. The media was his biggest obstacle to date, which made walking down the ramp of the bullpen even more of a thrill than anything else.

Clark bumped into a young man scurrying his way across the bullpen. "Oh! Mr. Kent! I-I am so sorry! I didn't mean to—"

Clark smiled and waved the kid off. "Don't worry about it. I should have been paying better attention. What's your name?"

He watched the kid's eyes go wide nervously. "Uh, James. James Olsen, sir."

Clark outstretched his hand with a grin, looking to set the kid at ease. He shook it nervously, with a bit of awe in his eyes. "James, well, it's good to meet you. Mind if I call you Jim? Or Jimmy?"

"Uh— No, no. Not at all. Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Kent?"

"Oh, not much," Clark said as he turned and started walking, rightly assuming the boy would follow. "I was just going to inform Mr. White that I got some spare tickets for the White Orchid Ball on Friday, and was wondering if anyone on staff would like to go. Good press and all."

He threw a glance back at James, whose eyes seemed to grow impossibly wider. He paused just outside Perry's office, conveniently close to where Lois Lane was currently sitting at her desk, and Clark decided to have a little fun. "Say, what do you do around here? Would you like to go to this thing?"

The newly-dubbed Jimmy stuttered for several moments. "Photographer. I'm a photographer."

"Great! We'll need one of those, I'm sure! I'll make sure Mr. White saves a ticket for you."

Jimmy beamed at him, ecstatic to be finally getting some attention around here. Clark then heard a scoff coming from Lois' desk and turned to follow the sound. He smiled at her only a bit patronizingly as he walked towards her. "Miss Lane? Are you hinting for a ticket, too? Because all you need to do is ask."

Lois rolled her eyes. "No, I was not "hinting" for anything. I just found it amusing, that's all."

"Wait a minute," Clark frowned, trying to appear pensive. "You're saying that you don't want to go to one of the most newsworthy events in society this season? What about the whole importance of story and doing your job?"

Lois glared at him intensely, the expression on her face very clearly trying to convey her thoughts of murdering him.

"Miss Lane doesn't need a ticket, she's already going," James jumped in quickly, ever so eager to get a few points in with the boss.

Clark arched an eyebrow, relying heavily on his acting skills to pull off the look of surprise. "Really? Reporter's salary bought that ticket? It's quite a pretty penny you know."

Lois sighed heavily and stood, grabbing her purse in the process. "Actually, I didn't pay. I was invited. Now if you'll excuse me."

She spun on her heel and practically stormed over to the elevator. Clark could see her fingers twitching and watched in curiosity as she pushed the up button on the elevator. Frowning, he tilted his glasses slightly down his face to watch her rummage through her bag, fingers questing for an open pack of cigarettes. That was interesting, Clark noted. He hadn't known that she'd smoked. Instead of pulling out the carton, though, she merely kept her fingers wrapped around it, as though it's presence alone was reassuring. Like a security blanket, he thought.

"Now, how'd she get an invite?" Clark murmured wryly under his breath, knowing exactly how.

"Didn't you know? She's dating Lex Luthor."

Clark gritted his teeth slightly just at hearing the name. He had forgotten that Jimmy was still standing there. He pasted a smile on his face as he turned around to face him. "Really? I had no idea," he lied through his teeth. After a beat, he went on. "Well, then. Is there anyone else in particular I should be giving out a ticket to?"

James shrugged one shoulder and pointed way back behind a long row of cubicles. "You might want to invite Catherine Grant. She's our editor for the society pages, and she also writes a column— Cat's Corner."

Clark followed his gesture and saw the woman in question, hovering over another writer's desk, bearing down on him about some mistake or rather he had made. Clark evaluated her. She had a pretty face, and beautiful long, flowing, auburn locks— the kind he'd certainly want to run his fingers through. But aside from that, she wasn't much to look at. At least, not in her frumpy grey sweater, chunky scarf and loose tan slacks. She looked like she had barely rolled out of bed this morning. But he could imagine her in a fancy dress, getting all dolled up for this event... maybe for him... Perhaps he'd tell Perry to invite her too.

No. She could come if she wanted, or if it was required, but he had to focus. Now wasn't the time for playing games. Besides, if anything, he'd much rather be spending his time with Lois— convincing Lois, stealing Lois from her boyfriend, kissing Lois—

He shook himself. What was the matter with him? How did that cold, distant, beautiful woman get so far under his skin? Maybe a good solid _distraction_ was exactly what he needed.

Clark didn't realize how long he'd been standing there staring into the space where Catherine Grant once was until he heard Jimmy Olsen politely trying to clear his throat. Clark turned back to him, startled, but with a smile. "Thank you, Jimmy. I appreciate all your help." With a dismissive pat on his shoulder, Clark moved past him and strode briskly right into Perry White's office.

The older man nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden intrusion into his office, and he was about ready to comment when he saw who it was. "Oh- uh, Mr. Kent! I didn't realize you would be coming in today! H-how, er, what can I do for you?"

Clark smiled. "Please, Perry, I wish you'd just call me Clark. Or at least just Kent. I'm not much one for formalities."

Perry smiled back at him wryly. "Kent, then. What brings you here today?"

Clark took a seat with a small sigh of satisfaction. "Well, I happen to have some tickets to the White Orchid Ball this Friday. I heard that Miss Lane is already going, but Jimmy seemed eager to go and I told him he could have one. Also, he recommended Cat Grant."

"Jimmy? Oh, you mean James. Uh, well, yeah, sure. How many tickets you got?"

Clark grinned. "Another two sets. Obviously, you and your wife would go, and then whoever else you would see fit."

"Oh, Alice and I don't need—"

"Nonsense, Perry. I won't take no for an answer."

Perry seemed to consider it for a minute before a slow smile spread across his features. "Well then, it's a deal! Alice will be happier than Frank Sinatra with a bottle of Jack and a handful of Tootsie rolls."

Clark laughed at the man's strange expressions. Perry White was a genuinely nice guy. Clark didn't come across too many of those any more, particularly in his business. He had a feeling they could grow to be good friends, provided he stayed in line and didn't interfere with any of his… extracurriculars.

"Good man. I'll see you then." Clark patted the arms of his chair before rising to his feet once more and exiting Perry's office.


End file.
